:     .     :;    I 


AFFAIR 


: 


BY    THE    SA.\fE    AUTHOR 


AMOS    JUDD. 

One  vol.     i6mo.     75  cents 


That   First   Affair 

And  Other  Sketches 


I  ',*' 


Y 
?/ '  #  f'  v>  i  - 


AN    ENORMOUS   BUNCH   OF   FLOWERS    IN    HIS  TRUNK 


That  First  Affair 

And  Other  Sketches 

By 

J.  A.   Mitchell 

Editor  of  "Life,"  author  of  "Amos  Judd,"  etc. 


Illustrated  by 

C.  D.  Gibson,  A.  B.  Frost,  F.  T.  Richards 
and  the  Author 


New  York 

Charles  Scribner's  Sons 
1896 


Copyright,  1S96, 
BY  CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS. 


TROW    DIRECTORY 

PAINTING  «NO   BOOKBINDING  COMPANY 
NiW   YORK 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

THAT  FIRST  AFFAIR 3 

MRS.   LOFTER'S  RIDE 55 

Two  PORTRAITS 81 

THE  MAN  WHO  VANISHED      .      .      .  139 

A  BACHELOR'S  SUPPER 155 


393086 


LIST    OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

An  enormous  bunch   of  flowers  in  his 

trunk Frontispiece 

When  the  light  went  out,  leaving  the 

earth  in  darkness 9 

He  did  his  best  to  make  her  cheerful  21 
A  sumptuous  picture  of  dignity  and 

patrician  elegance 54 

The  portrait  of  a  girl  in  an  old-fashioned 

hat 83 

He  strolled  dreamily  about  the  old 

garden 93 

What  is  it  I  ought  to  see  ?  .  .  .  98 

Beneath  the  lamp  he  re-read  the  note  100 

Into  the  county  of  Kent  .  .  .  .  103 

A  rambling,  irregular  structure  .  .  104 

A  portrait  of  himself ! 106 

The  portrait  in  America  had  come  to 

life 109 

He  made  a  low  bow 119 


List  of  Illustrations 

PAGE 

You  must  n't  call  me  that .  .  .  .  127 
The  thing  he  saw  drove  the  blood 

from  his  cheeks 143 

There  was  soon  a  great  rejoicing  .  .  151 

How  close  they  sat 158 

But  they  all  understand  .  .  .  .  169 
She  took  his  head  in  both  her  hands 

and  kissed  him 171 

When  Clem  entered  the  next  morning  175 


V11I 


That  First  Affair 


That  First  Affair  ' 

IT  is  bad  enough  to  be  alone  in  a 
big  house,  and  there  is  yet  more 
solitude,  the  poets  tell  us,  in  being  alone 
in  a  great  city  ;  but  the  hero  of  this 
simple  scandal  was  alone  on  the  sur 
face  of  the  earth,  the  only  man,  abso 
lutely  single  and  unique,  —  solitary, — 
all  by  himself. 

Of  course  there  were  animals,  but 
no  record  exists  of  dog  or  cat  or  parrot ; 
and  what  hope  for  boon  companion 
ship  with  the  mylodon,  the  ichthyo 
saurus,  or  the  ornithiohnites  giganteus  ? 
3 


ThaV -First  Affair 

But,  worst  of  all,  he  had  no  memories, 
for  he  started  already  brought  up.  He 
had  never  been  a  boy.  Selkirk  and 
other  solitaries,  either  in  heart  or  trou 
sers'  pocket,  bore  memories  of  mother, 
or  proof  of  maiden's  love ;  but  this 
young  man  knew  not  mother,  maid, 
or  memories,  and  had  never  seen  a 
pair  of  trousers. 

His  education  was  limited,  as  history 
had  not  yet  begun.  Botany  was  trying 
her  first  experiments.  Reading,  writ 
ing,  and  geography  were  still  unborn  ; 
and,  thus  far,  no  vulgar  fractions  had 
shed  their  blight  upon  a  peaceful  earth. 
However,  being  the  first  of  the  kind, 
and  never  having  seen  his  like,  he 
probably  regarded  this  as  the  usual 
condition  of  affairs  ;  the  proper  thing, 
in  fact.  But  the  goings  on  of  other 
animals  could  not  fail  to  start  him 
on  a  line  of  thought  that  was  sure 
to  be  upsetting.  They  were  pairing 
off  in  twos,  and  with  their  individual 
families  seemed  to  get  the  upper  hand 

4 


That  First  Affair 

of  an  unpleasant  isolation  that  threat 
ened  to  make  his  own  existence  a 
melancholy  failure.  And  doubly  de 
pressing  was  the  gradual  discovery  that 
while  among  the  other  animals  there 
were  at  least  two  of  a  kind,  thus  ren 
dering  these  partnerships  an  easy  busi 
ness,  for  him  there  seemed  no  such 
hope.  Day  after  day  he  searched,  but 
found  no  biped  similar  to  himself. 
Meeting,  one  tranquil  eve,  a  palaeo- 
therium  with  his  bride,  he  asked  the 
happy  groom  where  he  found  his  mate, 
and  if,  in  that  locality,  there  were 
brides  in  human  shape.  "  No,"  the 
palaeotherium  answered,  "  I  have  seen 
them  nowhere  ;  but  off  to  the  south  I 
passed  maidens  of  the  gorilla  family 
who  walk  on  their  hind  legs  and  use 
their  front  paws  just  as  you  do;  and 
they  also  bear  a  certain  resemblance  in 
physiognomy." 

"  Yes  ;  I  know  those  maidens,"  re 
plied   the  solitary  one  ;   "  but  somehow 
they   fail    to    fascinate    me.      They   are 
5 


That  First  Affair 

hasty-tempered  and  too  muscular.  I 
should  never  be  master  in  my  own 
house ;  and  they  are  such  restless  climb 
ers  !  No ;  home  would  not  be  home 
with  those  girls." 

Two  squirrels,  newly  wedded,  threw 
nuts  at  him  as  he  wandered  melancholy 
by,  and  twitted  him  on  living  by  him 
self.  "  Get  a  girl,"  cried  the  groom, 
"  and  go  to  housekeeping.  There 's 
nothing  like  it,  really  !  " 

And  later  a  mastodon,  hurrying  pon 
derously,  yet  joyfully  along,  with  an 
enormous  bunch  of  flowers  in  his  trunk, 
nearly  trampled  the  disconsolate  bache 
lor  beneath  his  feet. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  !  "  he  exclaimed. 
"  I  came  within  an  ace  of  walking  on 
you." 

"  I  wish  you  had." 

"  Why,  what  has  happened  ?  " 

"  Oh,  nothing  has  happened,  and 
nothing  ever  will  ! 

The  big  traveller  failed  to  understand, 
but  his  business  that  morning  was  too 
6 


That  First  Affair 

interesting  for  delays.  Being  of  a 
sympathetic  nature,  however,  he  made 
one  attempt  at  consolation. 

u  Let  me  put  you  on  my  back,  and 
I  '11  take  you  to  my  wedding.  You 
shall  be  best  man." 

The  invitation  was  declined,  but  in 
cidents  of  this  kind  only  increased  the 
bitterness  of  a  lonely  spirit,  and  aggra 
vated  a  situation  already  painful.  The 
most  dismal  hours  of  all  were  during 
those  regular  intervals  when  the  light 
went  out,  leaving  the  earth  in  dark 
ness.  This  joyless  condition  lasted 
many  hours,  and  was  only  alleviated 
by  a  smaller  and  much  colder  luminary 
than  the  sun,  which,  as  the  lone  one 
gazed  upon  it,  filled  him  with  uncon 
trollable  longings.  The  evening  zephyrs 
breathed  exasperating  secrets,  always  of 
a  tender  and  mysterious  nature.  And 
during  these  dusky  hours  the  frogs  and 
turtles  intensified  his  woe  by  their 
vociferous  courtships. 

But  a  surprise  was  awaiting  him,  and 

7 


That  First  Affair 

it  came  in  a  novel  way.  Early  one 
morning,  as  he  lay  upon  the  grass,  con 
versing  with  a  skylark  who  was  hunting 
worms  for  his  family  breakfast,  the  bird 
remarked,  — 

"  I  suppose  you  feed  your  little  ones 
on  quite  different  food." 

"  I  have  no  little  ones." 

«  Oh,  too  bad  !      All  dead  ?  " 

"  No  ;   I  never  had  any." 

"  Your  wife  's  alive  ?  " 

"  Never  had  any." 

"  So  you  're  a  bachelor  !  Well,  it 's 
a  shame  for  such  a  good-looking  chap 
to  go  to  waste.  You  ought  to  marry, 
and  do  it  while  you  're  young." 

The  youth  sat  up  and  shook  his  hair 
from  his  face  with  an  angry  move 
ment. 

u  I  would  if  I  could,  and  quick 
enough  !  " 

The  lark  laughed.  u  Would  if  you 
could  !  Why,  any  girl  would  have  you." 

u  Bui  there  is  n't  any  girl." 

"  Oh,  fiddle  !  " 


That  First  Affair 

u  But  there  is  n't,  and  never  has  been ! " 

The  bird  looked    earnestly   at    him, 

and  came  a  little  nearer.     "  That  is  a 

serious  oversight,"  he  said  impressively, 

his  head  to  one  side. 

"  Serious  !  I  should  say  it  was  !  " 
"  Look  here,"  said  the  lark,  in  a 
lower  tone  and  coming  closer  still, 
"  there  have  been  several  important 
errors  in  this  creation,  and  the  one  you 
mention  just  caps  the  climax.  While 
of  little  importance  to  the  world  at 
large,  I  can  see  that  for  you,  personally, 
it  is  terribly  aggravating.  Now,  I  won't 
mention  names,  but  there  are  several 
creatures  hereabouts  that  should  never 
be  allowed  in  a  first-class  garden.  It 
all  comes  from  a  reprehensible  careless 
ness  in  the  supervision." 

"  That 's  just  what  I  think,"  said 
the  young  man. 

"  If,  for  instance,"  continued  the  sky 
lark,  "  there  were  fewer  mosquitoes  and 
more  girls,  it  would  be  a  far  more 
attractive  garden." 


That   First  Affair 

"  Would  n't  it,  though  !  " 

"  And  suppose  all  the  mosquitoes 
were  girls,  what  a  different  kind  of  a 
time  you  would  have  !  " 

"  Don't  talk  about  it;  "  and  the  youth 
rolled  over  upon  the  turf  and  muttered 
all  the  wicked  words  he  knew. 

The  sympathy  of  the  skylark  was 
aroused,  also  his  anger,  and  he  exclaimed, 
u  What 's  the  use  of  a  man  without  a 
girl  ?  " 

"  None  !  " 

u  Why,  you  have  no  home  !  " 

u  No ;  I  sleep  in  a  new  one  every 
night." 

"  Now,  marriage  is  rife  in  this  garden, 
and  I  can't  imagine  why  you  should  he 
shut  out.  You  are  as  good  as  the  rest 
of  us,  at  least,  you  appear  so." 

There  was  a  silence,  during  which 
both  were  thinking.  It  was  broken 
by  the  lark,  who  said,  in  a  reflective 
tone,  — 

"  It  must  be  a  mistake:  just  a  stupid 
blunder.  There 's  nothing  to  punish 


That  First  Affair 

you  for.      You   have  n't  led  a  fast  life, 
have  you,  or  been  bad  in  any  way  ?  " 

"  A  fast  life  !  "  exclaimed  the  man, 
"  fast  on  what  ?  There  is  no  one  to 
gamble  with  ;  I  never  saw  a  woman  ; 
there  's  nothing  to  drink  but  water,  and 
I  am  only  a  week  old,  anyway  !  " 

The  skylark  smiled.  "Well,"  he 
said,  "  I  believe  it 's  simply  a  mistake, 
and  that  the  powers  above  have  for 
gotten  all  about  you.  I  will  do  the 
best  I  can  to  advertise  the  fact,  and  it 
may  reach  their  ears.  You  just  wait 
here  a  minute." 

Thereupon  he  spread  his  wings  and 
soared  aloft.  As  he  arose  toward  the 
clouds  he  sang,  in  clear,  far-reaching 
notes,  — 

"  Not  a  woman  in  the  world  !  " 

Higher  and  higher  he  went,  until,  to 
the  anxious  bachelor,  he  became  a  tiny 
speck  in  the  sky,  the  note  growing 
fainter  all  the  while.  At  last  the  blue 
ether  closed  in  about  him  and  shut  the 
messenger  from  sight. 
'3 


That  First  Affair 

A  long  time  he  was  gone,  but  he 
finally  returned,  and  out  of  breath. 

"  Well,  I  have  spread  it  through  the 
heavens,"  he  said  ;  u  and  if  there  is 
justice  anywhere,  you  ought  to  get  it." 

The  very  next  day,  rather  early  in 
the  afternoon,  our  hero,  yielding  to  a 
heavier  drowsiness  than  usual,  reclined 
in  the  cool  shade  of  a  fern,  —  an  ante 
diluvian  fern  about  a  hundred  feet  in 
height,  —  and  fell  straightway  into  a 
deep  slumber.  When  he  awoke  the 
surprise  was  there !  She  was  close 
beside  him,  leaning  over  and  gazing 
down  into  his  face,  and  he,  in  un 
speakable  rapture,  looked  up  into  an 
other  pair  of  human  eyes.  Fearing  it 
a  dream,  he  blinked  and  looked  again. 
It  surely  was  the  prayed-for  girl !  Her 
eyes,  surprised  and  timid ;  the  delicate 
contour  of  her  face  and  neck  ;  the 
luxuriant  locks  that  grazed  his  cheek 
as  she  bent  forward,  —  all  filled  him 
with  a  gentle  ecstasy. 

He  smiled ;  she  returned  the  smile, 
'4 


That   First  Affair 

and,  either  from  embarrassment  or  alarm, 
edged  further  away.  Still  sitting  among 
the  flowers,  she  watched  him  intently, 
as  if  trying  to  comprehend  the  situation. 
As  for  him,  so  great  was  his  joy  that 
he  found  no  words  to  express  it.  He 
continued,  however,  to  manifest  his 
intense  delight  by  a  series  of  welcom 
ing  smiles,  but  these  at  last  were  dis 
concerting  to  the  maiden,  compelling 
her  to  turn  away  in  some  confusion. 
For  it  must  be  remembered  that  this 
was  not  only  her  first  appearance  in 
any  society,  but  it  had  come  with  un 
precedented  suddenness.  Her  ward 
robe,  being  a  thing  of  the  future,  might 
also  have  troubled  her  under  different 
circumstances,  but  at  this  informal  period 
no  fashions  had  been  set  in  clothing ; 
in  fact,  no  standards  of  any  kind  were 
as  yet  established  for  the  guidance  of 
beginners. 

She  seemed  even  more  amazed  than 
he,  and  stared  at  everything  about  her 
in  a  charming  bewilderment. 


That  First  Affair 

"  Where  did  you  come  from  ?  "  he 
finally  asked. 

"  I  am  sure  T  don't  know !  "  she 
answered  ;  u  I  just  found  myself  here." 

Her  voice  was  gentler,  more  melo 
dious  than  his  own.  He  put  his  hand 
to  his  side  as  if  something  were  missing, 
but  his  face  expressed  no  regret. 

"  You  are  very  beautiful !  far  more  in 
teresting  than  anything  in  this  garden." 

u  Thank  you,"  she  replied,  with  a 
blush  ;  "  I  have  never  seen  myself,  but 
it  is  very  kind  of  you  to  think  so." 

"  I  am  glad  enough  you  have  come," 
he  continued.  u  I  have  lived  here 
some  days,  and  it 's  dull  being  alone." 

"  Where  are  the  others  ?  "   she  asked. 

"  The  other  animals  ?  " 

"  The  other  people." 

"  There  are  no  others." 

She  seemed  disappointed.  But  this 
brief  conversation  had  given  her  more 
confidence  in  herself,  and  she  replied, 
with  a  suspicious  look,  "  So  you  are 
the  only  man  !  " 

16 


That  First  Affair 

«  Yes." 

Now  this  was  an  unacceptable  truth  to 
a  belle  who  was  making  a  brilliant  debut. 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ?  " 

"  Because  I  have  n't  seen  any,  or 
heard  of  any  ;  and  I  have  inquired  far 
and  near." 

u  Have  you  been  everywhere  your 
self  ?  "  and  then,  as  her  eyes  swept  the 
distant  hills  she  added,  "  It  seems  quite 
a  place  !  There  must  be  some  variety 
in  the  way  of  men." 

"  Well,  it 's  what  all  the  animals  tell 
me,  and  the  birds  too :  and  some  of 
them  are  tremendous  travellers." 

As  he  gazed  in  admiration  upon  this 
new  companion,  he  could  not  conceal 
his  contentment  in  being  able  to  make 
such  a  reply.  But  she  was  evidently 
far  from  satisfied.  After  a  pause,  dur 
ing  which  she  caused  him  to  feel  that 
he  was  taking  an  ignoble  advantage  of 
a  trusting  girl,  she  inquired,  without 
looking  toward  him,  "Then  what  on 
earth  do  you  do  with  yourself?" 

2  17 


That   First  Affair 

"  Oh,  nothing  much  :  generally  as 
the  others  do." 

"  Then  there  are  others  ?  " 
"  I  mean  the  other  animals." 
"  And  how  do  they  pass  the  time  ?  " 
"  Oh,  stroll    about    and  eat    things, 
mostly     fruit     and    berries ;     and     take 
naps." 

«  What  a  life  !  " 
"  It  is  dull." 
"  Dull !    I  should  die  !  " 
"  There  are  some  fine  views." 
But  she  made  no  reply,  and  there  was 
another   silence    in    which     he    felt  her 
contempt.     At  last,  in  a  consoling  man 
ner   he   remarked,  "  But  then  you  will 
have  me  I  " 
"  Really !  " 

He  blushed  and  tried  to  assert  him 
self  against  a  foolish  diffidence  that  was 
constantly  possessing  him  ever  since  he 
had  met  this  person. 

"  What  I  mean  is  that  you  will  have 
one  companion,  such   as  it   is,   while  I 
have  been  all  alone  by  myself." 
18 


That  First  Affair 

She  put  her  hand  to  her  mouth  as  if 
to  conceal  a  yawn,  then  sighed  as  she 
asked, — 

u  And  the  neighbors  ?  Are  they  pleas 
ant  people  ?  " 

"  But  there  are  none,  I  say." 

"  Not  hereabouts,  perhaps,  but  further 
away.  Off  there,  or  there,"  she  ex 
claimed  nervously,  pointing  in  different 
directions. 

"  There  is  nobody  anywhere.  I 
have  inquired  and  hunted,  and  we  are 
the  only  ones." 

"  Impossible  !  "  and  she  arose  to  her 
feet  with  a  look  of  alarm.  "  I  can't  be 
lieve  it.  It  is  terribly  inconsiderate  ; 
and  I  am  sure  it 's  unusual." 

"  Unusual !  "  he  repeated ;  "  why,  what 
is  the  usual  custom  ?  " 

"I  don't  know,  but  it  seems  queer. 
Are  you  sure  it 's  all  right  ?  I  was  never 
in  such  a  position  before." 

u  But  you  never  were  in  any  position 
before,"  he  answered  with  a  smile. 

She  made  no  reply,  simply  expressing 


That  First  Affair 

by  her  manner  an  increased  distrust, 
and  strolled  slowly  away. 

He  hastened  after  and  did  his  best 
to  make  her  cheerful  :  he  told  her 
how  delicious  was  the  fruit ;  how  re 
freshing  to  lie  down  when  tired ;  of 
the  delightful  heat  of  the  sun  when  the 
wind  blew  cold,  and  how  welcome  the 
cooling  wind  and  the  shadowy  places 
when  the  sun  was  over-hot.  But  she 
paid  little  attention,  and  appeared  thor 
oughly  depressed,  turning  away  as  if 
mankind  had  ceased  to  interest.  She 
gazed  about  at  the  sky,  the  trees,  the 
birds  and  butterflies,  fixing  her  eyes, 
at  last,  with  an  absent  look,  upon  a 
towering  megatherium  nibbling  tree-tops 
in  the  distance. 

She  plucked  a  flower  and  held  it  to 
her  nostrils,  then  studied  it  in  admi 
ration. 

"  I  can  show  you  some  that  are 
much  prettier  than  that,"  he  remarked 
in  the  tone  of  a  man  of  the  world  who 
has  travelled  extensively  and  seen  much. 

10 


HE    DID    HIS    BEST   TO    MAKE    HER   CHEERFUL 


That  First  Affair 

"  Did  you  make  this  one  ?  "  she  asked. 

"No!" 

"  Did  you  make  all  the  rest  ?  " 

"  All  what  ?  " 

"  Everything,"  and  with  a  little  wave 
of  her  hand  she  indicated  the  trees  and 
the  distant  hills. 

"  No,  that  was  all  finished  when  I 
came." 

And  pointing  upward  to  the  great 
white  clouds  floating  majestically  across 
the  heavens,  u  And  did  n  t  you  arrange 
those,  either  ?  " 

"  No  !  "  And  he  saw  in  her  face 
that  the  awe  which  he  at  first  inspired 
was  gone  forever. 

Passing  her  hands  through  the  long 
tresses  that  hung  about  her  shoulders, 
at  first  in  an  idle  way,  she  at  last 
began  to  gather  them  into  a  definite 
shape.  "  Your  hair  is  very  beautiful," 
he  remarked.  "  How  fast  it  must 
have  grown  ;  and  you  so  young !  " 

She  looked  up  at  his  own  head 
and  asked,  after  hesitating  a  moment, 
23 


That   First  Affair 

u  What  happened  to  yours  ?  Did  some 
thing  bite  it  off?  " 

"  No  ;  it  was  never  any  longer." 

"That's too  bad!" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  care ;  I  supposed  it 
was  the  regular  thing  until  you  turned 
up." 

"  I  wish  I  could  see  my  own  face. 
I  have  no  idea  how  I  look." 

"  You  look  like  me  in  a  general 
way  ;  but  you  are  far  more  beautiful  of 
course,  as  I  was  only  an  experiment." 

u  How  do  you  know  how  you 
look  ?  " 

u  I  have  seen  my  reflection  in 
water." 

This  was  quite  exciting ;  and  she 
showed  a  livelier  interest  than  in  any 
subject  they  had  yet  approached.  So 
together  they  started  off  to  rind  the 
mirror. 

Beneath  a  certain  apple-tree  he  paused 
a  moment,  and  told  her  this  was  the 
forbidden  fruit ;  that  of  all  else  in  the 
garden  they  could  take  what  they  wished, 


That  First  Affair 

but  if  they  tasted  this  there  would  be  a 
serious  punishment.  Then,  continuing 
their  walk,  he  brought  her  to  a  quiet 
nook  by  a  river's  bank,  and  there,  sur 
prised  and  delighted,  she  gazed  upon  a 
fresh  young  face  smiling  back  at  her 
from  the  water. 

"  Why,  how  lovely  !  I  am  not  at  all 
like  you,  and  my  hair  is  beautiful  — 
simply  beautiful !  " 

Then  she  began  to  arrange  this  hair 
in  different  fashions,  trying  new  effects, 
he  watching  her  like  a  creature  beneath 
a  spell.  At  last,  turning  toward  him,  a 
little  color  in  her  cheeks,  she  inquired 
with  a  smile  of  various  meanings, 
"  How  many  men  did  you  say  there 
are  in  the  world  ?  " 

"One." 

"  That 's  a  great  many,  is  n't  it  ?  " 

"  You  think  one  is  a  great  many  !  " 

"  It  seems  so  just  now." 

He  laughed  and  strolled   away.      She 
called  after  him,  "  And  I   will  let  you 
know  when  you  are  needed." 
25 


That  First  Affair 

After  a  while,  when  tired  of  her  own 
face  and  of  rearranging  her  hair,  she 
looked  about  for  other  pleasures.  The 
world  was  young,  and  so  was  she, 
and  there  were  fresh  surprises  on  every 
side, —  in  the  colors  and  perfumes  of 
the  flowers,  in  the  clouds,  the  birds, 
and  the  whispering  trees.  For  a  happy 
period,  no  one  knows  how  long,  she 
played  about,  until  at  last,  throwing 
herself  upon  a  shady  bank  to  rest  a 
little,  she  recognized  in  the  branches 
above  her  head  the  apples  of  the  for 
bidden  tree.  But  she  was  a  good  girl 

—  so  far —  and  resisted  a  temptation  — 
quite  a  strong  temptation,  just  to  know 
how  it  tasted.      As  thus  she  lay,  a  lan 
guor  came  stealing  through  her  brain  ; 
her    eyelids    shut    out    the    light  ;     her 
senses  seemed  to  float  away,  and  then 

—  all  was  as  nothing. 

From  this  sleep  she  was  gently  awak 
ened  by  the  pressure  of  a  diminutive 
hand  upon  her  heart,  and  warm  lips 

against   her   own.      Opening  her   eyes, 
26 


That  First  Affair 

at  first  slowly,  and  then  wider  in  alarm, 
she  looked  upon  a  curious  little  being 
who  leaned  over  her  with  a  mischievous 
smile  upon  his  cherubic  face.  He  was 
short,  very  plump,  and  quite  a  hand 
some  boy.  She  sat  up  and  pushed 
him  back,  a  look  both  of 
fear  and  indignation  in  her 
face.  But  he  continued  to 
smile,  and  said, — 

"  Oh,    don't    be    angry. 
You    will      understand     it 
later.      You    don't    know 
me  yet." 

"  No,  I  do  not." 

"I  am  the  serpent." 

"The  serpent?" 

"  Yes.      Do  I  look  it  ?  " 

She  did  not  answer,  as  she  felt  he 
was  not  serious,  and  she  had  begun  to 
fear  him.  In  his  face  and  manner 
there  was  a  recklessness  and  audacity 
that  augmented  her  distrust ;  moreover, 
his  lips  were  amorous  and  his  eyes  were 
bold.  The  impression  given  was  of 
27 


That  First  Affair 

an  impulsive,  happy  person,  warm  and 
open-hearted  perhaps,  but  who  loved  the 
Devil  and  was  full  thereof.  Had  he 
worn  a  halo,  it  would  not  have  been 
straight  upon  his  head,  but  cocked  to 
one  side,  and  he  would  have  doffed  it 
to  every  girl  he  met. 

"  Yes,"  he  went  on,  his  hands  upon 
his  hips  ;   u  I  am  the  tempter,  the  thing 
that  is  to  bring  disgrace  upon  you,  — 
upon    you,   the   mother  of  the    human 
race."' 

His  speech  was  meaningless,  at  least 
to  her,  and  she  began  to  regard  him  as 
some  evil  spirit. 

"Are  you  a  man  ?  "   she  whispered. 

"  A  man  ?  No ;  I  am  the  essence 
of  all  men,  —  of  the  millions  yet  un 
born.  I  am  the  sap  and  soul  of  human 
life,  the  realization  of  lovers'  dreams. 
I  am  the  absorbing  and  resistless  pas 
sion  ;  the  one  undying  thing ;  the  ever 
lasting  joy  and  torture.  That 's  what 
I  am  !  "  ' 

He   smiled  as    he  spoke,    yet    there 
28 


That  First  Affair 


was  enough  of  earnestness  to  convince 
his  listener  that  he  was  something  of 
importance.  The  more  she  studied  him 
the  more  she  yielded  to  an  indefinable 
bewitchment.  He  seemed  to  exercise 
a  dangerous  spell,  and  she  looked  un 
easily  about.  Her  thoughts  flew  to  the 
man,  whose  absence  she  now 
regretted,  and  she  remem 
bered  him  with  a  warmer 
interest  and  a  deeper  long 
ing  than  she  had  yet  ex 
perienced. 

"  You  kind  of  half 
know  what  love  is,  don't 
you?"  exclaimed  her  new 
acquaintance.  "Whenever 
you  think  of  that  fellow  you  feel  this 
way."  And,  reaching  out  his  arms,  he 
moved  them  slowly  up  and  down,  wig 
gling  every  finger;  "and  it  goes  tingling 
all  through  you,  up  your  spine,  along 
your  drunken  nerves,  and  into  your  nice 
little  heart.  It  brings  the  color  to  your 
cheeks  and  the  light  of  Heaven  to  your 
29 


That  First  Affair 

eyes.  Oh,  it  is  the  hig  thing  of  crea 
tion  !  "  and  then,  as  she  tried  to  hide 
her  embarrassment  by  a  careless  smile, 
finally  putting  her  hands  before  her  face, 
he  laughed  aloud,  a  triumphant,  mock 
ing  laugh,  threw  himself  upon  the  grass, 
and  repeated,  as  he  rolled  over  and  over 
among  the  flowers,  "What  fun  this  is  ! ' 

Then  he  sat  up  and  said  with  a 
smile, —  an  exasperating  smile  of  supe 
rior  wisdom, — 

"  Tell  me  honestly  what  you  think 
of  him?" 

In  spite  of  herself,  the  color  came 
into  her  cheeks. 

"  Who  ?  " 

"  Who  ?  "  he  repeated  in  a  jeering 
tone.  "  Who,  indeed  ?  There  are  so 
many." 

"  You  are  an  impudent  little  thing." 

"  Worse  than  that,"  he  replied.  "  I 
am  the  wicked  thing  that  tempted 
Eve  ;  "  and  he  hunched  up  his  shoulders 
and  rubbed  his  hands  in  a  kind  of  reck 
less  glee. 

30 


That  First  Affair 

"  That  tempted  whom  ?  " 

"  You.  But  tell  me  honestly  if  the 
world  is  not  pleasanter  since  you  took 
that  nap.  Is  n't  the  sky  bluer,  the  air 
softer  ?  Are  n't  the  flowers  more  fra 
grant  ?  and  is  n't  your  heart  a  heap 
sight  fuller  since  I  had  the 
honor  of  awakening  you  ?  " 

Again  the  color  came  to  her 
cheeks  as  she  replied,  with 
a  frown,  "  I  don't  know 
why  I  should  talk  about 
it    to    every    stranger 
who   comes   along." 

"  True ;  but  you  are  not  likely  to 
encounter  many  strangers,  and,  besides, 
I  am  an  exceptional  person.  I  am  an 
institution  by  myself,  —  a  whole  prin 
ciple,  in  fact,  —  and  a  huge  one,  too." 

"You  are  here  for  mischief,  I  am 
sure  of  that." 

He  laughed  again.  "For  love  and 
trouble,  that 's  what  I  am  here  for." 

"  Must  they   go  together  ?  " 

"  Well,  yes  ;   I    suppose   they    must. 
31 


That  First  Affair 

You  see  love  requires  that  two  shall  be 
in  it." 

She  nodded. 

Then,  with  a  solemn  shake  of  his 
head,  u  There  's  trouble  right  away." 

She  reflected  a  moment,  then  replied, 
"  I  don't  see  why." 

u  Because  one  at  least  is  in  love. 
If  the  man,  for  instance,  could  pine 
away  for  love  of  himself,  for  what  is 
already  his ;  if  he  could  be  satisfied 
with  holding  his  own  hand,  sitting  in 
his  own  lap,  breathing  love  into  his 
own  ear,  and  after  all,  perhaps,  chang 
ing  his  mind  and  throwing  himself 
over  at  the  end,  —  you  can  see  how 
much  suffering  would  be  avoided.  And 
the  same  with  a  woman.  No ;  it 's 
having  two  that  will  lead  to  complica 
tions." 

"  But  how  do  you  know  all  this  when 
nothing  has  happened, —  before  any 
thing  is  tried  ?  " 

"  By  eating  that  fruit,"  he  answered 
pointing  to  the  branches  above  her  head. 


That  First  Affair 

"  By    the    way,   have    an   apple,"    and 
he  proffered  one. 

But  she  pushed  it  away.  "  That  is  the 
tree  of  knowledge,  the  forbidden  fruit." 

"  Oh,  come  now  !  what  do  apples 
grow  for  ?  You  will  never  have  any 
fun,  unless  you  know  enough  to  take 
it.  It 's  the  best  fruit  in  the  garden. 
Do  you  want  to  be  a  brainless  old 
goody,  and  never  know  what  life  is  — 
to  say  nothing  of  blighting  the  hopes  of 
the  only  lover  in  the  world  ?  Eat  it, 
and  trust  me.  I  can  furnish  you  more 
fun  and  tragedy,  more  poetry  and  life, 
than  the  deepest  ignorance  can  ever 
offer.  Besides,  you  won't  get  another 
such  chance  for  a  finished  education 
with  so  little  trouble." 

She  was  puzzled.  There  were  too 
many  new  ideas  in  this,  and  they  came 
rapidly  for  a  brain  not  three  hours  old. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  This  being  the  tree  of  knowledge, 
it  follows  that  the  more  you  eat  the  more 
you  will  know ;  and  you  will  know  things 
3  33 


That   First  Affair 


you  ought  n't  to  know,  which  is  consid 
erable  sport,  as  you  can  imagine." 

Although  she  smiled  and  nodded  in 
approval  she  could  not  avoid  a  suspicion 
that,  for  inexperienced  maidens,  he  was 
not  the  safest  guide. 

"But  we  are  commanded  not  to  eat 
it,   and    to    disobey    would    be 
wrong." 

"  Look    here,"     he     said, 
cocking  his  head  to  one  side 
and   half  closing   his  eyes. 
"  You  are  inclined  to  be 
too  superior.     Now,  be 
ware   of   an    excess  of 
virtue.      It    is    a   good 
thing,  like    water,    purifying 
while  you  are  in  it,  but  too  much 
of  it  becomes  the  chill  of  death.     Take 
my  advice  and  eat  that  apple.      It  will 
bring  a  scrap  of  wisdom,  and   that  man 
will  like  you  all  the  better  for  being  a 
little  cleverer  than  himself." 
"  Are  you  sure  ?  " 
"  Sure." 

34 


That  First  Affair 

She  still  hesitated,  but  finally  bit  into 
it  cautiously,  and  made  a  little  face. 

u  Why,  it  is  n't  as  good  as  it  looks  ! 
It  is  bitter,  and  yet,"  after  another  bite, 
— "  it  has  a  sweet  taste." 

Then  she  finished  the  whole  apple 
and,  as  she  tossed  aside  the  core,  in 
quired,— 

"If  I  eat  another  shall  I  be  wiser 
still  ?  " 

«  Yes." 

"  Then  give  me  another." 

But  he  squatted  upon  the  grass  in 
front  of  her  and  said,  — 

"  Just  wait  a  minute,  and  hear  a 
word  before  you  go  on.  In  the  first 
place,  wisdom  and  fun  are  two  dif 
ferent  things.  Now,  if  you  eat  too 
many  apples  you  will  be  too  wise  to 
fall  in  love  with  that  man." 

"  I  don't  see  why  !  "  she  exclaimed. 
"  I  should  love  him  all  the  same.  He 
is  not  a  fool." 

"  Yes,  he  is,  or  he  would  be  with  you 
now." 

35 


That  First  Affair 

"  But  I  sent  him  off." 

u  What  did  you  say  to  him  ?  " 

She  remembered  her  clever  little 
speech,  and  smiled.  u  I  told  him  one 
man  was  too  many." 

u  One  man  too  many  for  a  woman  ! 
Well,  that  would  make  a  holoptychius 
laugh." 

Seeing  that  she  failed  to  comprehend, 
he  edged  a  little  nearer  and  laid  a  hand 
on  her  knee. 

"  Excuse  me  ;  but  you  are  still  very 
simple  in  certain  directions.  However, 
if  you  eat  any  more  of  these  apples  you 
will  be  too  far  ahead  of  the  man." 

"  But  he  can  eat  the  apples  too." 

The  fatling  shook  his  head. 

"  What  you  want  from  that  man  is 
an  absorbing  love,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  !  " 

u  And  if  that  love  were  so  tempest 
uous  and  all-conquering  as  to  blind  his 
reason  you  would  not  complain." 

"  No,  never  !  " 

"  Well,  it  hurts  me  to  say  it,  but 
36 


That  First  Affair 

excessive   wisdom   is   not   a  safe   com 
panion   for  that  kind   of  love." 

u  Then  he  shall  never  taste  an 
apple  !  " 

"  You  had  better  let  him  have  one,  — 
just  one,  —  or  it  may  all  end  in  a  kind 
of  toleration  on  your  part,  which  is 
also  dangerous.  You  don't  want  him 
too  dull." 

"  Well,  he  shall  eat  one  ;  but  only 
one." 

"  You  are  a  sensible  girl.  And  there 
is  one  thing  more  I  ought  to  tell  you ; 
that  is,  that  you  will  have  to  leave  this 
garden,  now  that  you  have  eaten  the 
apple." 

This  alarmed  her,  and  she  exclaimed 
reproachfully,  "  And  you  made  me  do 
it!" 

"  Yes ;  but  you  never  could  have 
lived  without  it.  You  see  this  garden  is 
laid  out  exclusively  for  frigid  old  maids, 
—  hard-headed,  apathetic  old  maids,— 
who  abominate  men.  Now,  I  would  n't 
live  in  it  if  I  could,  and  I  know  that 
37 


That  First  Affair 


man    would  n't    either.      And    you    are 
not  the  girl  to  be  happy  in  here  all  by 
yourself,  with   us  fellows  outside." 
u  No,  I  certainly  am  not  !  " 
"  Good  for  you  !    I  knew  you  were 
not.      So    there    is     no    damage    done. 
The  fun  begins  earlier,  that's  all.    Now 
good-by,  for  I  must  leave  you; 
but    I    shall   be  within   call  if 
you    ever   need    me ; "     and 
with  a   knowing  smile  he 
added,  "  Don't  be  cruel  to 
him." 

And  he  skipped  away, 
half  running,  half  fly 
ing,  singing  as  he  went ; 
and  she  noticed  that 
birds  and  animals  pricked  up  their  ears 
as  if  his  song  was  interesting,  certain 
of  them  following  the  singer,  and  always 
in  pairs.  She  wondered  who  and  what 
he  was,  and  had  little  doubt  of  his  be 
ing  a  person  of  importance. 

And  she  was  right.      He  was  a  per 
son  of  considerable  importance.      And 
38 


That  First  Affair 

ever  since  that  day  —  which  was  so 
long  ago  that  no  human  being  pre 
tends  to  reckon  it  —  he  has  led  man 
kind  the  liveliest  jig,  upsetting  the 
natural  course  of  history,  dispensing 
joy  and  agony  with  reckless  waste, 
and  making  hopeless  fools  of  men 
and  women  of  every  class  and  sta 
tion,  and  of  all  ages,  colors  and  condi 
tions.  And  he  is  at  it  still. 

He  was  hardly  out  of  sight  before 
she  began  upon  a  second  apple.  That 
clever  little  stranger  might  be  correct 
in  theory  but  her  instinct  told  her,  that 
in  any  relations  between  the  sexes, 
there  could  be  no  possible  disadvantage 
to  the  woman  if  she  were  a  trifle 
wiser  than  the  man.  After  the  second 
apple  she  realized  a  mental  change  —  a 
quicker  insight,  a  clearer  comprehen 
sion,  and,  not  least,  a  splendid  confi 
dence  in  herself  that  alone  was  worth 
the  price  of  all.  She  felt  able  to  cope 
with  any  masculine  adversary.  And 
that  second  apple  easily  explains — at 
39 


That  First  Affair 

least  in  this  writer's  opinion — certain 
mental  differences  between  men  and 
women  that  have  flourished  ever  since 
that  day. 

When  the  man  returned,  uncertain 
of  his  reception,  for  he  had  heard  no 
call,  he  found  the  belle  of  the  garden 
reclining  beneath  the  apple-tree,  weaving 
a  sash  of  vine-leaves.  For,  among  the 
various  ideas  that  had  come  to  her  since 
partaking  of  the  fruit,  was  a  yearning 
for  personal  decoration,  —  that  desire  to 
wear  something  which  has  since  de 
veloped  into  such  unreasoning  dimen 
sions.  Throwing  himself  upon  the  grass 
at  her  feet,  he  began  with  his  old  argu 
ment,  that  they  marry  at  once,  like  the 
rest  of  the  world,  and  go  to  house 
keeping.  For  a  time  she  made  no 
answer,  fearing  he  might  suspect,  either 
by  her  language  or  by  her  manner,  that 
she  was  not  the  simple  maid  he  had 
known  but  an  hour  ago. 

At  last  she  moved  her  lips,  raised  her 
eyebrows,  and  held  her  head  a  trifle   to 
40 


That  First  Affair 

one  side,  as  if  trying  to  think  well  of  a 
poor  suggestion. 

"  Come,"  he  urged,  "  what  do  you 
say  ?  It  is  a  splendid  idea." 

"  There  is  no  hurry." 

"  As  well  do  it  now  as  later." 

"  As  later  ?  You  speak  as  if  it  were 
sure  to  happen  sometime  ;  but  I  don't 
know  why  !  " 

u  Because  everybody  else  is  married, 
birds,  beasts  and  fishes,  everything,  from 
the  elephant  to  the  ant.  It  's  a  law  of 
nature,  an  example  we  certainly  ought 
to  follow  ;  and  a  fine  one,  too  !  " 

"  But  there  is  not  the  least  hurry,  and 
you  must  remember  that  I  never  met 
you  before  to-day.  However,  I  will 
think  about  it  and  tell  you  later." 

"  Oh,  don't  say  that.  It  is  mourn 
ful  to  be  alone.  Why,  the  world  is  a 
different  thing  since  you  came  into 
it." 

"  Thank  you  ;   but   I   would  like  to 
look  about  a  little  before  I   settle  down. 
I  have  seen  nothing  yet." 
41 


That  First  Affair 

"We'll  see  it  all  on  our  wedding 
journey.  I  will  take  you  everywhere. 
Come,  please  say  yes." 

She  shook  her  head.  "  This  is  all 
dreadfully  sudden  ;  and  how  do  I  know 
that  your  love  for  me  is  serious." 

"  Indeed  it  is  !  " 

"  Am  I  worth  a  sacrifice  ?  " 

"  Try  me." 

"  Would  you  rather  live  alone  in 
this  beautiful  garden,  or  with  me  out 
side  ?  " 

u  With  you  outside,  a  thousand  times 
over !  "  and  he  sat  up  with  uplifted 
hand,  as  if  taking  an  oath. 

"  Then  eat  this,"  and  she  took  an 
apple  from  the  ground  beside  her  and 
held  it  toward  him. 

It  was  rather  sudden,  and  he  had  a 
wholesome  reverence  for  the  garden 
authorities. 

"  No,"  he  said  with  a  shake  of  his 
head  ;  "  I  will  not  do  that,  for  we  can 
both  live  here  by  letting  the  apples 
alone." 

4* 


That  First  Affair 

"  But  I  have  already  eaten  one." 

"  You  have  !  "  and  he  looked  seri 
ously  alarmed. 

"  I  have,"  she  answered  calmly,  and 
in  her  voice  there  was  a  shade  of  con 
tempt.  "  I  hardly  supposed  your  devo 
tion  would  stand  a  very  serious  test." 

"  You  did  n't  ?  Then  you  made  a 
mistake.  I  will  eat  a  dozen  !  "  and  he 
took  half  the  apple  at  a  single  bite. 

"  No  !   you  must  eat  but  one  !  " 

u  Why  ?      How  many  did  you  eat  ?  " 

She  hesitated,  then  compromised  with 
truth,  and  answered,  as  she  looked 
calmly  into  his  eyes,  "  One." 

He  finished  the  apple,  then  looked 
up  with  a  smile.  "  Now  are  you 
satisfied  ?  " 

u  Yes,  partly.  You  have  given  a 
proof  of  your  sincerity,  but  you  cannot 
expect  me  to  fall  in  love  at  such  very 
short  notice  and  with  the  first  man  I 
meet." 

"  Why  not  ?  You  can't  do  better, 
no  matter  how  long  you  wait ;  "  and 
43 


That  First  Affair 

he  added  with  a  smile,  "  I  am  your 
only  chance." 

"  A  tempting  assortment  to  pick  from, 
but  I  must  have  time  to  consider.  We 
never  met  before,  and  I  know  nothing 
whatever  about  you.  Who  are  your 
parents  ?  Where  do  they  live,  and  what 
sort  of  people  are  they  ?  " 

For  a  moment  he  was  disconcerted. 
Then  he  smiled  as  he  answered,  "  My 
parents,  I  fancy,  are  much  like  your 
own." 

u  My  own  !    Why,  have  I  parents  ?  " 

"  Have  you  never  seen  them  ?  " 

"  No." 

u  Then  probably  you  have  n't  any." 

"  Is  it  customary  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"  Is  what  customary  ? " 

"  To  have  parents  ?  " 

u  Not  that  I  know  of,  but  there 
would  be  no  harm  in  them,  I  think. 
Young  animals,  I  notice,  depend  en 
tirely  on  their  parents ;  but  you  and  I 
were  never  young,  so  we  did  n't  need 
them." 


That  First  Affair 

"  I  must  say  it  seems  more  respect 
able  in  a  way.  A  man  without  parents 
is  a  terrible  mystery.  You  may  be 
some  awful  animal  in  disguise ;  how 
do  1  know  ?  Is  n't  there  some  one  to 
refer  me  to  ?  Have  you  no  relations, 
no  antecedents  whatever  ?  " 

"  No  more  than  you  have  your 
self." 

This  style  of  conversation  was  evi 
dently  beginning  to  annoy  the  suitor  ; 
but  she  could  not  resist  having  a  little 
more  fun  with  him,  and  replied,  with 
exasperating  sweetness,  — 

u  But  I  don't  ask  you  to  marry  me. 
I  should  certainly  be  rather  hasty,  to 
say  the  least,  if  I  presented  myself  to 
the  first  person  I  encountered,  when 
others  are  surely  coming  later." 

"  Other  women  may  come  too,"  he 
retorted. 

"  Then   you    can    have   one ; "    with 

which     reply     she    arose     and    walked 

away.       He     remained     seated      upon 

the    grass,  also    pretending  to   be  more 

45 


That   First  Affair 

offended  than  he  was,  and  thus  came 
the  first  lovers'  quarrel,  similar  in  mo 
tive,  execution,  and  result  to  the  un 
numbered  millions  that  have  followed 
since. 

The  cruel  maiden  disappeared  among 
the  antediluvian  plants,  not  halting  until 
well  out  of  sight,  and  then  she  turned 
and  peered  through  the  leaves,  and 
watched  him.  And  when,  a  moment 
later,  he  started  after  her,  she  ran  further 
into  the  forest  seeking  out-of-the-way 
places,  that  his  search  might  be  in 
vain.  There  was  a  sense  of  triumph 
in  this,  and  a  pleasant  excitement,  as 
the  apples  had  taught  her  the  impor 
tance  of  not  yielding  too  easily.  Of 
time  she  took  no  thought,  until  in 
sudden  terror  she  realized  what  was 
going  on  about  her.  It  had  all  been 
so  gradual  as  to  escape  her  notice ; 
but  now  the  trees,  the  sky,  and  all  the 
flowers  began  to  lose  their  color,  and 
those  at  a  distance  disappeared  entirely. 
They  had  vanished  and  ceased  to  exist. 
46 


That  First  Affair 

At  least,  so  it  seemed  to  one  of  her 
brief  experience,  and  there  was  no  one 
to  explain. 

The  big  luminary  had  disappeared 
behind  a  line  of  purple  mountains  that 
seemed,  in  that  direction,  to  mark  the 
edges  of  the  world.  She  saw  with 
alarm  that  a  peculiar  change  was  creep 
ing  over  the  earth.  The  air  was 
damper  ;  the  resplendent,  many-colored 
world  she  had  known  so  short  a  time 
ago  had  died  away.  In  place  of  the 
bright  blue  sky  with  its  shining  clouds, 
there  came,  enveloping  all  things,  a 
solid  mass  of  threatening  black,  through 
which  myriads  of  little  eyes  were  glit 
tering  with  a  cold,  unearthly  light.  She 
trod  on  unfamiliar  things,  and  they 
tickled  the  soles  of  her  tender,  inex 
perienced  feet.  Twigs  and  branches 
and  mysterious  things  seemed  to  reach 
out  and  touch  her,  like  wicked  fingers, 
and  she  shrunk  and  grew  weaker  with 
every  step.  She  dared  not  call  aloud, 
for  he  might  be  far  away,  and  these 

47 


That  First  Affair 

other  things  would  hear  her  voice  and 
might  eat  her  up. 

At  last,  sinking  to  the  ground,  she 
wept  from  fear,  for  whatever  existed  was 
surely  coming  to  an  end.  Crouching 
at  the  mercy  of  unknown  things,  with 
hope  and  courage  gone,  the  approach 
ing  footsteps  of  some  invisible  creature 
brought  a  climax  to  her  terror.  But 
this  terror  changed  suddenly  to  an  over 
whelming  happiness  as  she  recognized 
the  outline  of  a  human  form. 

With  a  joyful  cry  she  ran  toward 
him.  The  trembling  figure  found  a 
welcome  refuge  in  the  encircling  arms, 
and  the  encircling  arms  were  exceeding 
glad  to  hold  her. 

The  next  morning,  as  they  were 
finishing  a  simple  but  beatific  breakfast, 
a  dignified  messenger,  with  wings  and 
snowy  draperies,  appeared  before  them 
and  gave  official  notice  that  they  must 
quit  the  garden.  But  the  apples  had 
opened  two  pairs  of  eyes,  and  the  youth 
48 


That  First  Affair 

marched  out  with  head  erect  and  a 
smiling  face,  for  he  knew  he  carried 
with  him  the  flower  of  the  universe, 
the  only  one  of  her  kind. 

As  for  that  loveless  garden,  nobody 
knows  where  it  is. 

And  nobody  cares. 


49 


Mrs.    Lofter's   Ride 


Mrs.   Lofter' s   Ride 

A  S  Mrs.  Chillingworth  Lofter  de 
scended  the  grand  staircase  of 
her  stately  home,  on  the  afternoon  of 
November  2,  she  presented  a  sumptu 
ous  picture  of  dignity  and  patrician 
elegance,  of  complacency  and  of  count 
less  dollars.  No  descendant  of  a  hun 
dred  earls  could  be  more  aggressively 
aristocratic  or  more  politely  insolent 
than  this  daughter  of  four  generations 
of  solid  and  increasing  millions.  With 
features  of  perfect  regularity,  with  an 
excellent  figure  and  a  commanding 
carriage,  she  was  sometimes  beautiful 
and  always  impressive.  At  the  time 
of  the  brief  adventure  to  be  narrated, 
Mrs.  Chillingworth  Lofter  was  forty- 
one  years  of  age.  She  looked  younger. 
53 


Mrs.   Lofter's   Ride 

The  soothing  and  ever-present  con 
sciousness  of  being  born  a  Topping 
was  a  wonderful  preservative  of  youth. 
Although  a  little  heavier  than  she  her 
self  desired,  the  well-distributed  weight 
only  added  to  her  dignity. 

She  was  attired  for  afternoon  calls. 
'Every  detail  of  her  toilet  was  in  per 
fect  taste,  and  of  unconsidered  expense. 
Through  the  stained-glass  window  above 
her  head,  the  sunlight,  as  if  subdued 
and  quivering  at  the  hallowed  touch, 
illumined  in  its  reverent  passage  the 
united  arms  of  the  Lofters  and  the 
Toppings. 

As  she  swept  leisurely  toward  the 
door,  it  opened  wide,  and  the  liveried 
servant  bowed  his  head  in  solemn  ado 
ration, —  just  enough  and  not  too  far, 
—  and  she  passed  through  and  out. 
With  a  careless  word  to  the  footman 
she  entered  the  brougham.  He  closed 
the  door,  touched  his  hat,  and  scrambled 
upon  the  box.  In  so  doing,  he  seemed 
to  have  discarded  his  trousers,  but  this 
54 


Mrs.   Lofter's   Ride 

was  owing  to  the  extreme  tightness  of 
his  creamy  breeches,  and  to  a  luminous 
quality  they  possessed  when  in  motion. 
In  another  moment  the  sparkling  equi 
page  was  rolling  down  the  Avenue. 
To  certain  occupants  of  other  stylish 
equipages,  and  to  occasional  pedestrians 
whose  gentility  was  publicly  acknowl 
edged,  she  gave  nods  of  recognition. 
These  salutations  were  masterpieces, 
being  nicely  graded  from  the  cordial 
greeting  for  other  immortals  down  to 
the  perfunctory  and  chilling  inclina 
tion  toward  the  social  struggler  whose 
future  was  still  uncertain  ;  and  all  were 
executed  with  skill  and  precision. 

Her  first  call  was  in  Washington 
Square,  after  which,  on  her  way  uptown, 
she  stopped  for  a  moment  to  be  seen 
at  a  wedding  then  occurring  at  Grace 
Church.  Upon  entering  the  vestibule 
of  this  temple,  she  found  herself  ap 
proaching  a  man  by  the  name  of  Con 
nor.  She  had  met  him  once  or  twice 
at  the  house  of  a  friend  whose  guests 

o 
57 


Mrs.   Lofter's   Ride 

were  not  always  of  the  quality  she  most 
respected.  This  Mr.  Connor,  for  in 
stance,  if  one  could  judge  from  his 
somewhat  diffident  manner  and  careless 
raiment,  was  not  accustomed  to  the  re 
fining  influences  of  fashionable  society- 
Knowing  no  reason  why  the  acquaint 
ance  should  be  continued,  she  gave  him 
on  this,  as  on  previous  occasions,  the 
most  arctic  nod  in  her  repertoire ;  and 
it  was  accompanied  with  a  look  that  to 
a  sensitive  soul  would  have  laid  a  heavy 
frost  on  any  budding  aspirations.  How 
he  took  it  concerned  her  little,  and  she 
looked  indifferently  beyond  him,  as, 
with  her  chin  in  the  air,  she  brushed 
calmly  by. 

On  leaving  the  church,  some  moments 
later,  she  was  approached  by  her  foot 
man,  whose  anxious  face  gave  warning 
of  disaster.  One  of  the  horses  had  a 
fit, —  blind  staggers,  he  thought,  —  and 
the  coachman,  with  another  man,  was 
trying  to  get  him  home.  Should  he 
call  a  carriage  ? 

58 


Mrs.  Lofter's   Ride 

No,  she  would  walk  a  little,  then  pos 
sibly  take  a  hansom  at  Union  Square  j 
and  she  started  up  Broadway. 

It  was  a  beautiful  afternoon,  and  she 
found  walking  a  pleasure,  but  her  attire 
was  somewhat  too  heavy  and  too  rich 
for  the  street.  Besides,  she  had  not 
the  time.  Consulting  a  memorandum 
in  her  card-case,  West  Thirty-third 
Street  proved  the  nearest  on  her  list ; 
decidedly  too  far  to  walk.  Public  cabs 
were  out  of  the  question,  being  hideously 
vulgar ;  and  one  never  knew  who  was 
in  them  last.  At  that  moment  a  cable- 
car  went  by,  and  it  certainly  looked 
fresh  and  clean.  It  would  take  her 
within  a  block  of  where  she  wished  to 
go.  Then,  within  her,  came  a  reckless 
resolve. 

At  the  corner  of  Twelfth  Street  she 
signalled  one  of  these  conveyances.  It 
stopped,  and  she  proceeded  leisurely 
and  with  her  usual  impressiveness  to 
get  aboard.  Behind  her  was  another 
person,  of  whose  existence  she  was  un- 
59 


Mrs.   Lofter's   Ride 

aware.  As  our  heroine  stepped  upon 
the  platform  the  conductor,  who  seemed 
in  a  hurry,  and  was,  possibly,  ignorant 
of  her  maiden  name  and  of  her  social 
position,  placed  his  hand  between  her 
shoulders,  according  to  the  custom  ot 
his  kind,  and  gently  hastened  her  pace. 
With  an  angrv  face  she  partially  turned, 
to  avoid  the  pollution,  and  shot  a  crush 
ing  glance  at  the  offender.  Hut  he  was 
looking  elsewhere,  and  failed  to  receive 
it.  Then,  as  she  was  about  to  enter 
the  car,  she  found  herself  face  to  face 
with  Mr.  Connor.  He  was  standing 
on  the  platform  directly  in  front  of  her, 
and  their  eyes  met. 

On  the  instant  she  determined  to 
commit  an  act  that  might  as  well  be 
accomplished  now  as  later.  As  the 
gentleman  raised  his  hand  toward  his 
hat,  her  eyes  moved  slowly  from  his 
face  horizontally,  with  glacial  indiffer 
ence,  and  with  no  sign  of  recognition. 
A  polar  bear  would  have  shivered  be 
neath  its  baleful  rays.  The  deed  was 
60 


Mrs.   Lofter's   Ride 

brutal,  perhaps,  but  it  was  executed 
with  a  frigidity  and  a  self-possession 
that  rendered  it  a  work  of  art.  Mr. 
Connor,  with  a  sudden  color  in  his 
cheeks,  stopped  his  hand  on  its  upward 
journey  and  stroked  his  mustache.  Pos 
sibly  he  was  unaccustomed  to  just  this 
manner  of  having  advice  delivered. 

She  entered  the  car,  followed  by  the 
passenger  who  also  had  just  come 
aboard.  Her  entrance  was  majestic. 
Twenty  pairs  of  eyes  at  once  were 
fixed  upon  her  with  a  pleasant  interest : 
those  of  the  men  in  admiration ;  those 
of  the  women  in  envy  and  in  awe. 
She  brought  with  her,  into  this  every 
day  scene,  the  atmosphere  of  a  higher 
life, —  an  atmosphere  of  pride  and  of. 
costly  things ;  of  dainty  nourishment ; 
of  marble  mansions  and  of  bath-tubs 
lined  with  gold.  The  very  rustle  of 
her  clothes  seemed  to  indicate  that  the 
garments  beneath  were  even  richer  than 
the  outer  glories. 

In  the  centre  of  the  car  she  stopped 

61 


Mrs.   Lofter's   Ride 

and  turned  about,  facing,  as  she  did  so, 
the  other  new  arrival.  He  was  a  citi 
zen  of  African  descent.  His  somewhat 
showy  apparel  indicated  a  love  of  color 
that  was  not  fettered  by  convention. 
A  sporty  suit  of  reverberating  checks, 
whose  startling  yellow  suggested  a  sus 
picion  that  its  first  owner  lacked  the 
courage  to  exhibit  it  himself,  was  en 
hanced  by  an  emerald-green  cravat,  held 
by  a  scarf-ring  of  bygone  fashion.  The 
striking  feature  of  this  scarf-ring  was 
its  gigantic  ruby,  which,  if  honest,  was 
worth  about  thirty  thousand  dollars. 
But  grave  doubts  as  to  the  genuineness 
of  this  stone  were  invited  by  the  ragged 
edges  of  the  adjacent  collar,  which  was 
not  only  conspicuously  high,  but  very 
much  soiled.  Neither  did  his  mani 
festly  ancient  hat,  which  had  attained 
to  its  present  smoothness  by  the  appli 
cation  of  a  moistened  towel,  seem  a 
proper  travelling  companion  for  a  jewel 
of  such  unusual  value.  His  face,  how 
ever,  was  real  ;  and  as  Mrs.  Chilling- 
62 


Mrs.   Lofter's  Ride 

worth  Lofter  confronted  him,  he  smiled 
pleasantly  and  made  no  effort  to  conceal 
his  admiration.  She  was  disgusted  and 
looked  freezingly  beyond  him. 

The  car  started  forward,  slowly,  but 
with  that  rapidly  increasing  speed  so 
misleading  to  the  upright  traveller. 
Mrs.  Lofter  leaned  deferentially  toward 
her  showy  vis-d-vis,  and  laid  her  hands 
caressingly  upon  his  shoulders.  They 
then  bounded  gracefully  toward  the 
door,  with  a  step  that  was  neither  a 
waltz  nor  a  polka,  but  which  was  exe 
cuted  in  such  perfect  time  that  the 
ordinary  observer  would  have  suspected 
a  previous  rehearsal.  Although  differ 
ing  widely  in  color  and  in  social  stand 
ing,  these  two  travellers  were,  for  the 
time  being,  certainly  one  in  movement. 
This  movement  was  perhaps  more  of  a 
galop  than  a  polka,  and  although  har 
moniously  executed  became  a  little  too 
hasty  at  the  finish.  The  exhibition  was 
brought  to  a  close  by  her  partner's  back 
coming  in  violent  contact  with  the  jamb 
63 


Mrs.  Lofter's   Ride 

of  the  door.  Although  the  dance  itself 
was  practically  over,  Mrs.  Lofter  con 
tinued  for  a  moment  to  press  heavily 
against  her  dusky  partner,  and  to  one 
unaccustomed  to  these  conveyances  her 
action  might  appear  of  questionable 
taste  even  if  prompted  by  the  warmest 
affection.  But  to  those  familiar  with 
the  Broadway  cable-cars  there  was 
nothing  unusual  in  this  performance, 
except,  perhaps,  the  costly  attire  of  the 
leading  lady,  and  this  added  a  certain 
novelty  and  richness  to  the  general 
effect.  As  Mrs.  Lofter,  hot  with  in 
dignation,  released  herself  and  stepped 
away  from  the  grinning  object  of  her 
caresses,  a  seat  was  offered  which  she 
gladly  accepted.  Once  in  it,  she  had 
leisure  to  look  about. 

Although  inwardly  revolting  against 
the  sickening  episode  in  which,  to  her 
everlasting  humiliation,  she  had  just 
taken  so  conspicuous  a  part,  her  glance 
swept  the  row  of  opposite  faces  with 
haughty  composure.  She  bit  her  lips, 
64 


Mrs.   Lofter's   Ride 

and  there  was  defiance  in  her  eyes,  as 
she  noticed  a  general  smile  throughout 
the  car.  Having  no  sense  of  humor 
herself,  this  cheerfulness  seemed  the 
acme  of  human  insolence.  All  were 
either  smiling  or  on  the  edge  of  it.  A 
coarse-looking  man  in  a  corner,  with 
curly  hair  and  a  fur  collar,  who  looked 
like  a  ticket-agent  for  a  circus,  smiled 
boldly  upon  her  with  an  open  grin. 
Even  the  pale-faced  little  girl  with  the 
hollow  eyes  and  phantom  legs  smiled 
timidly  over  the  enormous  box  that 
rested  in  her  lap.  One  person,  an 
over-dressed  girl,  with  her  beau,  actu 
ally  tittered  aloud.  But  the  most  in 
supportable  of  all,  that  which  irritated 
Mrs.  Lofter  beyond  her  powers  of  en 
durance,  was  an  expression  of  pity  and 
regret  upon  the  face  of  a  massive  female 
who  sat  directly  in  front  of  her.  This 
heavy,  honest  Irish  face  was  elongated 
with  compassion,  and  the  kind  blue 
eyes,  as  they  looked  mournfully  in  her 
own,  seemed  on  the  verge  of  tears. 
5  65 


Mrs.   Lofter's  Ride 

They  told  of  an  inward  lamentation  that 
such  a  dignified  lady  should  become  an 
object  of  ridicule.  Mrs.  Lofter  was 
unable  to  suppress  an  angry  flush  that 
flew  to  her  face,  but  she  behaved  with 
magnificent  composure,  moving  her 
eyes  indifferently  along  the  row  of 
happy  faces  that  seemed  drawn  up  be 
fore  her  like  a  squadron  on  parade.  It 
was  well  to  let  these  wretches  know 
that,  although  she  and  they  might  chance 
to  occupy  the  same  public  conveyance, 
there  existed  a  gulf  so  immeasurably 
vast  that  there  could  never  be  anything 
in  common  between  them,  not  even 
her  own  anger.  Upon  the  benevolent 
Hibernian  opposite  she  lingered  with  an 
icy  gaze  that  would  have  frozen  the 
life-blood  of  any  human  being  whose 
self-forgetfulness  had  been  less. 

But  why  sit  here  and  endure  the 
vulgar  insolence  of  this  street-car  ca 
naille  ?  She  rose  to  quit  the  scene. 
Fortune,  however,  seemed  to  have  aban 
doned  her,  at  least  for  that  afternoon. 
66 


Mrs.   Lofter's   Ride 

A  more  unpropittous  moment  was  never 
selected  for  a  dignified  retreat.  As  she 
arose,  her  Irish  vis-a-vis  stood  up,  also 
with  intent  to  leave  the  car.  She  had 
passed  her  street  in  the  excitement  of 
the  little  dance  with  which  the  grand 
lady  had  just  favored  the  company.  It 
was  at  this  point  that  the  car,  having 
reached  the  sharp  curve  above  Four 
teenth  Street,  gave  viciously,  and  with 
out  warning,  a  sudden  wrench,  throw 
ing  its  head  in  one  direction  and  its  tail 
in  another.  The  two  women  clinched, 
not  in  anger,  but  in  a  friendly  tussle  of 
the  Graeco-Roman  style.  It  promised  to 
be  the  usual  catch-as-catch-can  struggle, 
although  they  held  each  other  with  a 
nervous  frenzy  not  usual  with  profes 
sionals.  The  movement  of  the  car 
compelled  Mrs.  Lofter  to  throw  her 
self  forward  with  a  headlong  fury  that 
was  evidently  unexpected,  for  it  thrust 
her  ponderous  but  amiable  adversary, 
with  sickening  force,  upon  the  lap  of 
an  elderly  gentleman  who  was  perusing 
67 


Mrs.    Lofter's   Ride 

his  afternoon  paper.  As  the  news  of 
the  day  was  jammed  in  crackling  folds 
about  his  head,  the  visitor's  stalwart 
back  pressed  painfully  against  his  nose, 
displacing  his  spectacles  and  knocking 
his  hat  to  one  side.  In  vain  he  struggled 
to  pull  the  paper  from  his  eyes,  that  he 
might  realize  the  nature  of  the  ava 
lanche  that  was  grinding  him  beneath 
its  suffocating  weight.  But  the  enor 
mous  and  seemingly  immovable  mass 
arose,  and  floated  away  as  suddenly  as 
it  had  come. 

Mrs.  Lofter  had  the  undcrhold,  and 
was  the  more  agile  of  the  two,  but  her 
companion  possessed  harder  muscles, 
and  also  a  breadth  of  beam  that  became 
a  factor  of  tremendous  importance  in  a 
struggle  where  time  is  limited.  As  the 
car,  with  an  unearthly  yell  from  the 
machinery  about  its  wheels,  veered 
from  northwest  by  west  to  a  northeast 
course,  the  athletic  washerwoman  re 
gained  her  equilibrium  with  a  celerity 
that  aroused  the  enthusiasm  of  every 
68 


Mrs.   Lofter's   Ride 

passenger ;  and  although  in  reality  only 
trying  to  free  herself  from  her  richly 
attired  assailant,  she  appeared  first  to 
shake  her  and  wrench  her  about  the 
aisle,  and  then,  after  lifting  her  from 
the  floor,  to  slam  her  upon  the  oppo 
site  seat  with  vindictive  rage. 

As  Mrs.  Lofter  landed,  she  quivered 
from  head  to  toe  with  the  suddenness 
of  the  shock.  Every  stitch  and  button 
of  her  apparel  seemed  to  have  loosened. 
Pale  from  anger  and  outraged  pride, 
she  pressed  her  lips  and  made  a  super 
human  effort  to  control  herself.  With 
outward  calmness  she  assured  herself, 
with  a  touch,  that  her  bonnet  was  on 
her  head,  and  then,  with  a  downward 
glance,  that  her  clothing  had  not  been 
torn  from  her  body. 

In  the  mean  time  the  other  woman 
murmured  an  apology,  stopped  the  car, 
and  alighted.  But  of  this,  Mrs.  Lofter 
had  failed  to  take  notice.  She  was  too 
much  occupied  with  her  own  sensa 
tions  to  observe  the  movements  of  the 
69 


Mrs.   Lofter's   Ride 

vulgar  herd.  Never  in  her  life  had 
she  assisted  in  such  a  degrading  scene. 
Never  again  would  she  put  herself  in  a 
position  where  contact  would  be  pos 
sible  with  these  dregs  of  humanity,  this 
insufferable  street-car  rabble. 

A  loud  guffaw  from  the  seat  opposite 
brought  a  flush  to  her  cheeks,  and  a 
gleam  of  anger  to  the  contemptuous 
eyes.  There  sat,  in  a  convulsion  of 
mirth,  a  tall,  thin-faced,  red-bearded 
man,  with  an  enormous  Roman  nose. 
His  light-blue  eyes  were  fixed  merrily 
upon  her  own.  One  hand  was  slapping 
his  knee  in  the  very  abandon  of  ecstasy. 
The  other  he  pressed  hard  against  his 
vest  in  the  hope  of  preserving  the  co 
hesion  of  his  interior.  His  laugh  was 
so  hearty  and  contagious  that  if  Mrs. 
Lofter  had  been  a  little  more  human 
she  might  possibly  have  smiled  herself. 
She  then  noticed,  in  looking  scornfully 
over  the  passengers,  that  all  were  laugh 
ing.  The  nice  old  gentleman,  who  a 
moment  before  had  been  disconcerted 
70 


Mrs.   Lofter's   Ride 

by  the  Hibernian  catapult,  was  trying  in 
vain  to  conceal  his  amusement.  Two 
well-dressed  girls  were  holding  their 
handkerchiefs  to  their  faces,  and  squirm 
ing  with  uncontrollable  glee.  Even 
the  anxious,  over-worked  conductor 
stood  in  the  doorway  with  a  cheerful 
grin.  Every  eye  of  the  confronting 
faces  was  fixed  merrily  upon  herself, 
and  she  saw  that  the  entire  company 
had  surrendered  to  an  offensive  gayety 
which, -instead  of  dying  out,  seemed  to 
increase  and  amplify.  Never  had  she 
dreamed  of  such  barbarous  manners ! 
Of  course,  she  knew  they  were  a  com 
mon  lot,  ill-bred,  and  hopelessly  vulgar, 
or  they  would  never  be  riding  in  a 
street-car ;  but  this  persistent,  brutal 
insolence,  this  inhuman  disregard  for  oth 
ers'  feelings,  was  more  than  a  surprise. 
It  was  a  shock.  Could  it  be  possible 
they  had  combined  to  affront  her  ?  It 
required  all  her  self-possession  to  look 
haughtily  along  the  line,  and  let  them 
guess  at  the  infinity  of  her  contempt. 
71 


Mrs.   Lofter's   Ride 

Suddenly  her  lips  parted ;  the  hot 
blood  rushed  to  her  face  ;  her  eyes  be 
came  wider  open.  Was  she  sitting  on 
a  pair  of —  what  ?  They  moved  !  A 
little  voice  down  behind  her  shoulders 
piped  gently  up  and  seemed  to  say  : 

u  I  beg  your  pardon,  madam,  but  — 

Mrs.  Lofter  rose  to  her  feet  as  if 
driven  by  electricity.  Wheeling  about, 
she  looked  down  upon  an  overdressed 
little  youth  whose  mouth  was  quivering 
in  a  pitiable  effort  to  maintain  a  smile. 
His  face  was  hotter  than  her  own. 

It  would  seem  that  if  any  apology 
was  due  it  should  emanate  from  the 
person  who,  in  a  public  place  and  with 
out  invitation,  had  occupied  the  lap  of 
a  harmless  citizen.  But  the  degrada 
tion  of  her  surroundings  had  driven 
from  Mrs.  Lofter's  mind  all  memory 
of  conventional  courtesies.  As  if  the 
youth  had  not  fully  atoned  for  his  un 
committed  sin,  her  cold  eyes  lingered 
for  a  second  upon  his  changing  face, 
and  the  glance  was  so  laden  with  dis- 
72 


Mrs.  Lofter's  Ride 

dain  that  the  mortifying  color  came 
rushing  to  his  cheeks. 

More  of  this  would  be  unbearable. 

With  imperious  majesty  she  motioned 
the  conductor  to  stop  the  car,  and  he 
pulled  the  bell.  She  stepped  toward 
the  door,  not  crestfallen,  like  a  victim 
in  retreat,  but  with  firm  eyes  and  head 
erect,  proudly  and  with  perfect  com 
posure,  as  a  being  so  far  above  the 
encircling  clay  that  the  intervening 
space  could  not  be  measured  by  any 
standard  within  their  ignoble  compre 
hension. 

But  fortune  seemed  only  waiting  for 
a  chance  to  smite  heron  the  other  cheek. 

The  car  stopped  ;  she  alighted  from 
the  loathsome  conveyance  and  stepped 
calmly  toward  the  sidewalk.  Before 
reaching  it,  however,  the  conductor 
called  after  her.  She  turned,  and  he 
held  up  his  finger.  What  new  affront 
was  hidden  beneath  this  gesture  she 
made  no  effort  to  discover. 

But  again  he  spoke,  and  this  time 
73 


Mrs.   Lofter's  Ride 

his  voice  was  raised  above  the  din  of 
passing  carriages, — 

"  Your  fare,  lady  !  " 

With  an  unpleasant  chill  she  remem 
bered  that  not  a  cent  was  in  her  imme 
diate  possession ;  that  she  held  only 
a  card-case,  and  not  even  a  pocket  to 
her  gown  ;  then,  as  a  fit  culmination  to 
this  degrading  adventure,  she  saw  Mr. 
Connor  speak  a  word  to  the  conductor 
and  place  a  coin  in  his  hand.  In  doing 
so  he  raised  his  hat,  but  without  look 
ing  toward  her.  Mrs.  Lofter's  face 
became  first  a  fiery  crimson,  then  pale 
with  anger. 

Outwardly  cool,  inwardly  at  a  white 
heat,  she  moved  up  Broadway  in  icy 
majesty.  Just  above  Twentieth  Street 
she  saw  coming  toward  her  one  of  her 
most  cherished  friends  ;  one  of  the  few 
women  whom  she  thoroughly  envied. 
Miss  Winifred  Tailcur  was  exception 
ally  pretty,  enormously  wealthy,  and  the 
sister-in-law  of  titled  foreigners.  One 
of  these  purchases  was  an  English 
74 


Mrs.   Lofter's   Ride 

duke  ;  the  other  a  Marquis  of  la  Haute 
Noblesse.  The  duke  was  coarse  in  his 
manners,  and  a  physical  wreck.  The 
marquis  was  a  professional  gambler. 
But  in  the  heart  of  Mrs.  Chillingworth 
Lofter  the  family  who  had  achieved  a 
nobleman  was  forever  sanctified,  what 
ever  the  individual's  physical  pollution 
or  moral  dearth.  For  Miss  Winifred 
Taileur  she  cherished  a  respect  that 
was  akin  to  adoration.  It  is  perhaps 
unnecessary  to  say  that  this  friend's 
social  standing  was  yet  more  dazzling 
than  her  own. 

An  agonizing  chill  drew  our  hero 
ine's  lips  together  as  she  perceived,  to 
her  horror,  that  Winifred  was  accompa 
nied  by  the  inevitable  Connor.  More 
over,  they  appeared  on  excellent  terms. 
Could  she  believe  her  eyes  ?  An  inti 
macy  between  a  Taileur  and  this  un 
known  thing  ! 

Miss  Winifred  came  beaming  toward 
her  with  effusive  greeting,  for  they  had 
not  met  since  April. 
75 


Mrs.   Lofter's   Ride 

"  Why,  Helen  !  I  am  so  glad  to  see 
you  !  How  well  you  look  !  Such  a 
splendid  color  !  "  Then,  after  further 
salutations,  and  turning  partly  about, 
u  Let  me  introduce  —  " 

But  Mr.  Connor  had  strolled  away 
*ad  was  waiting  farther  on. 

"  Why,  the  brute  !  He  did  n't  wait. 
(  must  tell  you,  Helen,"  and  a  most 
conventional  and  proper  little  blush 
came  reluctantly  to  her  cheeks.  "  You 
are  the  first  to  know  it,  outside  the 
family,  but  Mr.  Connor  and  I- 

Mrs.  Lofter  almost  staggered  beneath 
the  news.  Her  friend  misinterpreted 
the  emotion. 

u  I  knew  you  would  be  interested, 
and  I  am  sure  you  will  be  great  friends. 
He  is  a  love,  and  is  certain  to  come 
into  the  title  within  a  year  or  two." 

"  Title  !  "  gasped  Mrs.  Lofter. 
«  What  title  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  thought  you  knew.  He  is 
a  nephew  of  Lord  Blathers,  the  swellest 
peer  in  Ireland  —  and  the  sickest." 
76 


Mrs.   Lofter's   Ride 

And  Winifred's  smile  was  one  of  sor 
row  and  of  hope. 

When  they  parted,  a  moment  later, 
Mrs.  Lofter  felt  in  no  condition  for 
making  calls.  She  hurried  home ;  and 
as  her  fellow-travellers  of  the  cable-car 
were  fresh  in  her  mind,  she  burned  her 
gloves,  had  her  wrap  hung  out  for  an 
airing,  and  she  herself  took  a  very  hot 
bath. 

Then,  sufficiently  purified  in  body  to 
approach  her  Creator,  she  knelt  with 
bowed  head  upon  a  prie-dleu  that  had 
belonged  to  Catherine  de  Medicis,  and 
for  which  her  husband  had  paid  twenty 
thousand  francs.  Her  prayer,  while 
ostensibly  in  thankfulness  for  her  many 
blessings,  was,  if  the  Deity  to  whom  it 
was  addressed  had  cared  to  read  be 
tween  the  lines,  a  respectful  but  firm 
demand  for  a  more  watchful  guardian 
ship  over  the  choicer  lambkins  of  his 
flock.  While  too  well-bred  to  openly 
rebuke  a  Beneficent  Being  for  His 
shortcomings,  she  felt  that  a  plain 
77 


Mrs.   Lofter's   Ride 

statement  concerning  her  recent  dese 
cration  was  a  pious  duty.  And  while 
wishing  the  common  herd  no  immedi 
ate  punishment  for  their  hackslidings, 
it  would  certainly  be  well  if  they  were 
suddenly  brought  to  a  proper  respect 
for  higher  things. 

Whether  this  prayer  miscarried,  from 
being  obscurely  worded,  iMrs.  Lofter 
never  learned,  but  no  reward  for  her 
martyrdom  was  received  that  evening. 
The  martyrdom  was,  on  the  contrary, 
prolonged  until  a  late  hour,  as  they 
dined  at  the  Bondenwaters,  and  the 
gentleman  who  took  her  out  to  dinner 
was  the  future  nobleman  whose  repug 
nance  and  contempt  she  had  so  ably 
won  that  afternoon,  —  he  who  had  de 
frayed  the  expenses  of  the  most  mor 
tifying  and  debasing  exhibition  ever 
given  by  a  Topping. 


Two   Portraits 

3 


Two   Portraits 


J  N  the  old-fashioned  library  of  an  old- 
fashioned  house  a  young  man,  near 
an  open  window,  sat  writing  at  a  desk. 
He  had  pleasant  eyes  and  a  pleasant 
mouth,  and  the  sunburnt  face  seemed 
all  the  browner  from  its  contrast  with 
the  light,  almost  straw-colored  hair. 

After  folding  his  letter  he  sealed  and 
directed  the  envelope  and  affixed  a 
stamp ;  then  he  leaned  back  with  a 
look  of  relief.  Although  a  good  son, 
this  letter  to  his  mother  had  been  an 
unwelcome  effort,  as  the  present  visit 
to  his  grandfather  was  absolutely  with 
out  incident;  and,  besides,  she  knew 
more  of  the  house,  the  neighbors,  and 
the  old  gentleman  himself  than  any 
other  person  could  ever  tell  her.  Nev- 
6  81 


Two   Portraits 

ertheiess,  he  had  covered  four  pages, 
and  felt  now  like  receiving  his  reward ; 
like  doing  something  foolish,  something 
to  he  ashamed  of  later.  He  could  go 
to  the  village,  but  it  offered  no  dissipa 
tions  beyond  tepid  beer  and  bad  cigars, 
and  for  these  he  felt  no  yearnings. 

For  a  young  man  just  out  of  college 
the  world  has  little  to  teach,  and  as  he 
thought  of  the  gouty  grandfather  in  the 
chamber  above,  and  realized  that  this 
visit  was  to  continue  four  days  longer, 
he  began  to  regret  that  creation,  in  its 
final  results,  should  prove  so  flat  and 
uneventful. 

Again,  for  the  twentieth  time,  he 
looked  across  the  library  to  the  portrait 
of  a  girl  in  an  old-fashioned  hat,  who 
seemed  forever  on  the  point  of  smiling, 
yet  never  did  it.  She,  whoever  she 
was,  with  her  black  hair  and  tranquil 
eyes,  had  a  gentle,  somewhat  sad  ex 
pression,  and  yet,  about  the  mouth  there 
was  a  suggestion  of  mischief.  And  the 
smile  seemed  so  very  imminent  that  he 
82 


THE   PORTRAIT    OF   A    GIRL    IX    AN    OLD-FASHIONED    HAT 


Two  Portraits 

disliked  to  turn  away  for  fear  of  miss 
ing  it.  He  not  only  smiled  himself,  as 
he  had  often  done  before,  as  a  form  of 
encouragement,  but  this  time  he  leaned 
forward  and  addressed  her, — 
"  Please  do  it.  Just  once  !  " 
But  the  prayer  was  not  answered. 
He  looked  out  the  window  with  the 
melancholy  gaze  of  a  disappointed  lover ; 
then  a  foolish  look  came  over  his  face; 
the  look  of  a  foolish  man  with  a  foolish 
idea  who  has  resolved  upon  a  foolish 
thing.  He  took  half  a  sheet  of  note- 
paper  and  raised  his  pen  to  write.  What 
he  wrote  seemed  to  come  with  an 
effort :  — 

"  If  there  is  in  this  world  a  girl  like  you, 
Then  count  me  a  lover,  stanch  and  true." 

Looking  over  at  the  portrait,  he  said 
in  a  very  low  tone  and  with  an  apolo 
getic  air,  "  I  am  not  a  poet,  you  know, 
but  the  sentiment  is  correct." 

Folding  it  twice,  until  it  became 
quite  a  narrow  strip,  he  stepped  over 
to  the  silent  girl  and  pushed  his  mes- 
85 


Two   Portraits 

sage  between  the  canvas  and  the  frame. 
This  brought  relief.  The  foolish  thing 
was  done.  Perhaps  it  was  more  fool 
ish  than  the  conditions  required,  but 
without  defining  it  he  felt  that  in  mat 
ters  of  love  no  barriers  are  more  chill 
ing  than  caution  and  common-sense. 

"  And,  besides,"  he  muttered,  as  his 
gaze  rested  affectionately  upon  the  eyes 
that  seemed  so  very  near  a  smile,  "  it 
is  no  one's  business  but  our  own,  and 
I  know  you  will  never  tell." 

He  stepped  back  and  gravely  threw 
a  kiss  to  the  face  above  him,  then 
politely,  and  with  becoming  deference, 
retreated  toward  the  door. 

As  he  ascended  the  stairs  he  made  a 
bold  resolve.  He  would  ask  the  old 
gentleman,  point-blank,  who  the  paint 
ing  represented.  It  would  be  a  natural 
question.  Yet,  on  the  other  hand,  he 
knew  his  grandfather  never  alluded  to 
it,  and  he  also  knew,  from  the  house 
keeper,  that  the  portrait  had  never  ap 
peared  in  the  house  until  after  his 
86 


Two   Portraits 

grandmother's  death ;  and  ever  since 
it  had  held  the  place  of  honor  in  the 
library. 

Between  the  two  men,  as  they  sat 
facing  each  other,  the  physical  resem 
blance  was  striking.  Both  were  tall 
and  slight,  with  narrow  faces,  long 
noses,  and  pointed  chins.  Their  eyes 
were  of  the  same  shade  of  blue,  and 
upon  both  heads  the  stifF,  straight  hair 
was  alike,  except  that  with  the  older 
man  the  original  straw-color  had  faded 
to  a  yellowish  gray.  But  a  closer  look 
at  the  two  faces  revealed  a  fundamen 
tal  difference  in  expression.  With  the 
grandfather  there  were  unmistakable 
indications  of  an  unamiable  and  ag 
gressive  spirit,  and  of  that  despotic 
intolerance  that  is  so  often  the  result 
of  long  habits  of  authority.  The  old 
man  himself  was  not  aware  of  these 
distinctions,  and  it  gave  him  constant 
pleasure  to  believe,  as  he  looked  upon 
the  frank,  sunny  face  of  his  grandson, 
that  the  only  difference  was  that  of 
87 


Two   Portraits 

years.  Whereas  the  youth,  although 
taking  no  pride  in  his  own  appearance, 
felt  a  mild  regret  that  as  an  older  man 
he  should  look  precisely  like  his  grand 
father.  But  these  fears  were  un 
founded.  In  him  were  the  well-springs 
of  undying  cheerfulness  ;  of  that  per 
petual  youth  which  years  can  never 
dry. 

u  How  is  your  foot,  grandfather  ? 
Any  better  ?  " 

"  No.  Yes,  perhaps  it  is.  Did  you 
write  to  your  mother  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.      Four  pages." 

"  And  probably  forgot  everything  she 
wants  to  know." 

"  No,  sir,  not  everything.  I  told  her 
about  —  " 

"  Oh,  that 's  all  right.  Don't  tell 
me,  for  I  know  it  already."  And  he 
shook  his  head  in  a  manner  that  was 
intended  to  convey  the  impression  of  a 
playful  spirit.  Seeing  a  promising  con 
dition  for  experiment,  the  young  man 
ventured  his  question. 


Two   Portraits 

"  Grandfather,  who  is  that  pretty  girl 
in  the  old-fashioned  hat  above  the  library 
mantel  ?  I  never  saw  a  more  interest 
ing  face." 

The  tyrannical  blue  eyes  rested  upon 
his  own  for  an  instant,  as  if  in  indeci 
sion.  "  She  is  an  English  girl  I  knew 
a  long  time  ago,  when  I  was  your 
age.  We  were  great  friends,  and  day 
after  to-morrow  when  you  leave  I  shall 
give  you  a  letter  to  her.  She  and  her 
daughter  live  a  little  way  from  London. 
And  when  you  get  to  England  next 
month  I  want  you  to  go  there,  whether 
you  feel  like  it  or  not." 

ct  All  right,  sir.  I  promise.  And 
did  she  give  you  that  life-size  painting 
of  herself?"' 

"Yes." 

"  She  must  have  been  very  fond  of 
you." 

«  Possibly." 

There    was    a    pause,    during    which 
they  both  looked  out  the   window,  over 
the   orchard    to    the    meadows   beyond. 
89 


Two   Portraits 

A  happy  thought  entered  the  head  of 
the  investigator.  Perhaps  this  daughter 
was  the  image  of  her  mother  !  He  hesi 
tated,  then  asked,  "  Is  there  more  than 
one  daughter  ?  " 

"  Only  one." 

Then,  in  ,in  offhand,  indifferent  way, 
"  Does  she  resemble  the  portrait?  " 

"  Not  at  all.  She  is  rather  pretty, 
but  she  may  have  changed.  It  is  forty 
years  since  I  saw  her." 

Forty  years !  Cyrus  Harding  felt 
himself  a  broken-hearted  man  ;  and  a 
very  foolish  one. 

"  Oh,  of  course.      How  stupid  !  : 

u  Stupid  ?      Why  stupid  !  " 

There  was  a  blush  on  the  grand 
son's  face,  and  he  turned  it  toward  the 
window. 

"  I  was  only  thinking  she  was 
younger." 

There  was  another  pause,  and  each 

seemed  lost  in  his  separate  revery.      At 

last  the  younger   man,  whose  thoughts 

were  still   with    the  portrait,  asked,  in 

90 


Two  Portraits 

a  gentle,  somewhat  absent  manner,  his 
eyes  still  fixed  upon  the  meadows, — 

"  Were  you  in  love  with  each  other  ?  " 

As  no  answer  came,  he  looked  to 
ward  his  ancestor,  and  he  realized  his 
mistake.  The  chin  was  raised,  the 
lips  compressed,  two  hostile  eyes  were 
fixed  coldly  upon  him,  while  nervous 
fingers  tapped  angrily  on  the  table. 

u  Cyrus,"  he  said,  slowly,  in  a  voice 
tremulous  with  suppressed  wrath,  "  if 
you  live  a  hundred  years  longer  you 
may  learn  that  a  little  tact  is  a  more 
gentlemanly  quality  than  your  brazen 
impudence.  Try  it." 

He  waved  his  hand  as  if  to  end  the 
interview.  The  young  man  rose  and 
stammered  an  apology  as  he  moved 
toward  the  door ;  he  said  he  spoke 
without  thinking,  and  was  sincerely 
sorry  to  have  given  offence. 

"  That  is  all  right,"  said  the  old 
gentleman,  with  a  perfunctory,  unfor 
giving  smile;  "I  was  hasty  myself. 
Excuse  me." 

91 


Two   Portraits 

Two  hours  later,  after  his  lonely 
supper,  he  strolled  out  into  the  garden, 
which  was  also  lonely,  and  where  all 
the  melancholy  little  sounds  of  a  sum 
mer  evening  seemed  the  utterances  of 
other  and  yet  more  lonely  spirits.  The 
voice  of  a  whippoorwill  from  a  neigh 
boring  grove  betrayed  the  wavering 
courage  of  a  forsaken  soul.  And  the 
moon,  as  she  rose  above  the  orchard, 
gazed  sadly  upon  him,  as  if  she  too, 
in  her  eternal  solitude,  yearned  for  a 
companionship  of  which  she  found  no 
promise.  He  strolled  dreamilv  about 
the  old  garden  and  encouraged  the 
belief  that  if  the  original  of  that  exas 
perating  portrait  were  only  here,  the 
world  would  be  always  interesting ; 
then  with  a  bitter  smile  he  murmured, 
"  Grandad  and  I  don't  seem  to  have 
much  luck  with  our  favorite  girls." 

After    a  few    turns   he    entered    the 

house,  and   without    intention    directed 

his   footsteps   toward    the    library.       A 

sleepy   lamp   upon   the   table   illumined 

9- 


HE    STROLLED    DREAMILY    ABOUT   THE    OLD    GARDEN 


Two   Portraits 

the  space  immediately  around  it,  but 
left  the  rest  of  the  room  in  obscurity. 
Cyrus  threw  himself  upon  a  sofa,  and, 
with  his  eyes  upon  the  portrait,  now 
barely  visible  in  the  shadowy  light,  was 
soon  lost  in  a  peaceful  revery. 

But  he  could  see  that  she  was  look 
ing  at  him.  And  such  a  spell  was 
wrought  by  the  silence  and  the  gloom 
that  if,  in  answer  to  his  own  imaginings, 
the  lips  had  parted  and  she  had  spoken, 
he  would  hardly  have  been  surprised. 
An  audible  conversation  between  the 
old-fashioned  bookcase  and  the  tall 

clock  ticking;  in   the  corner  would  have 

o 

been  in  perfect  harmony  with  the 
mysterious,  half-living  atmosphere  that 
enveloped  the  various  objects  and  him 
self.  And  these  objects  were  all  of  a 
character  to  meet  a  ghost  halfway. 
Every  article  was  of  a  bygone  fashion, 
and,  save  usage  and  repairs,  the  little 
library  was  precisely  as  it  existed  when 
his  grandfather's  father  had  furnished 
the  house  over  seventy  years  ago. 
95 


Two   Portraits 

Everything  was  old, —  the  paper  on  the 
walls,  the  curtains,  the  carpet,  the  pic 
tures,  and  all  the  furniture.  The  only 
signs  of  youth  were  this  girl  and  him 
self.  And  she  was  fifty  ! 

As  he  gazed  upon  her  face  in  the 
everlasting  hope  that  the  impossible 
might  occur,  he  detected  a  little  white 
corner  of  his  note  projecting  beyond  the 
edge  of  the  frame.  Had  he  been  so 
careless  ?  Could  he  have  left  it  in  such 
a  clumsy  way  that  the  first  comer  might 
discover  it  ?  And  when  he  recalled 
what  a  silly  note  it  was,  he  jumped  from 
the  sofa  and  pulled  it  out.  As  he  held 
the  paper  between  his  fingers  to  tear  it 
into  bits,  it  seemed  thinner  and  of  a  dif 
ferent  texture  than  when  he  folded  it 
three  hours  ago ;  and  he  took  it  to  the 
light. 

This  certainly  was  another  kind  of 
paper,  finer,  more  transparent,  and  even 
doubled  in  a  different  fashion  !  And 
was  it  a  mild  perfume  that  came  to  his 
nostrils  in  the  unfolding  ?  He  started 
96 


Two  Portraits 

when  he  saw  the  writing,  —  a  daintier 
hand  than  his  own,  more  carefully  writ 
ten,  and  with  a  finer  pen. 

"  Thank  you  $  but  I  have  no  mind 
For  a  lover  so  perversely  blind." 

He  dropped  it  upon  the  table  and  re 
turned  hastily  to  the  picture. 

"  Blind  ?  "  he  asked  in  an  anxious 
whisper.  ct  Why  do  you  say  that  ? 
Why  am  I  blind  ?  " 

The  eyes,  through  the  dim  light, 
looked  down  into  his  own  and  came 
nearer  smiling  than  ever  before.  They 
also  seemed  more  mischievous,  and  as 
he  bent  nearer  to  catch  the  answer  they 
took  a  frightened  look,  as  if  annoyed. 

Beneath  the  lamp  he  re-read  the  note. 
The  lines  seemed  fainter ;  and  as  he 
gazed,  they  grew  dimmer  and  dimmer, 
slowly  fading  from  his  sight,  until,  upon 
the  white  surface  of  the  paper,  there  was 
no  trace  of  writing.  Returning  to  the 
portrait,  he  demanded,— 

"  What  is  it  I  ought  to  see  ?  Why 
not  tell  me  ?  " 

7  97 


Two   Portraits 


But  no  answer    came.       Then,  re 
moving  the   shade   from    the    lamp,   he 
stood  upon  a  chair  and 
carefully  examined  the 


back 

of    the 

painting, 

the  frame,  the 

canvas,and  felt 

everywhere     for 

something,       he 

knew  not  what. 

But     dust      and 

disappointment 

were  all  he  found. 

Returning  to  the  table,  he   sat  down 
and  wrote,— 

98 


WHAT  IS  IT  I  OUCIIT  TO  SEE? 
WHY    NOT  TELL    ME? 


Two  Portraits 

"  Why  do  you  say  I  am  blind  ?  Why  give 
such  a  meaningless  answer  when  you  know  I 
am  in  earnest  ?  For  me  your  face  shall  always 
be  the  first  and  dearest. 

"  Please  answer.  C.    H." 

This  note,  like  its  predecessor,  was 
carefully  folded,  then  tucked  in  the 
same  place,  between  the  canvas  and  the 
frame.  A  moment  later,  in  his  most 
engaging  manner,  he  bowed  gracefully 
to  the  silent  girl  and  left  the  room. 

The  next  morning,  at  the  earliest 
opportunity,  with  a  respectful,  although 
a  conquering  air,  he  approached  the 
portrait.  There  was  in  his  manner  a 
certain  brusqueness  and  assurance  whose 
object  was  to  remind  the  lady  that  she 
was  in  honor  bound,  by  their  previous 
intercourse,  to  refrain  from  disappointing 
him.  With  outward  calm,  but  with 
inward  nervousness,  he  drew  a  folded 
paper  from  its  hiding-place. 

It  was  his  own  epistle.      He  frowned 

at  the  dark  eyes   that  looked   tranquilly 

into    his     own ;   and     never    had     they 

seemed     so    unresponsive.       To    judge 

99 


Two   Portraits 


from  their  calm,  unrecognizing  stare,  he 
might   have  been  a   stranger.      If   they 
told    him    anything,   they    told    him    he 
had    been   too    familiar ;     and    as    they 
bore   every  appearance 
ot   reading  his  own 
1      i         consciousness  of  de 
feat,  a   flush  came 
creeping  over  his 
face.       His 
own    blood 
was   mocking 
L>       him  !       And 
•       this    embar 
rassment  from 
a  picture  ! 

He  laughed, 
but  there  was 
no  mirth  in  it. 
Jamming  the 

note  into  a  pocket,  he  marched  angrily 
from  the  room.  But  in  the  hall  repent 
ance  overtook  him,  and  he  turned  about. 
He  would  give  her  one  more  chance. 
If  the  eyes  were  plaintive  or  sad,  as  he 


Two  Portraits 

had  often  seen  them,  all  would  be  for 
given.  Glancing  severely  in  her  direc 
tion  as  he  stood  in  the  doorway,  he  saw, 
to  his  mortification,  that  she  had  either 
been  laughing  or  was  just  going  to. 

Let  her  !  Who  cared  ?  And  whist 
ling  loudly  a  tune  he  hated,  he  picked 
up  his  hat  and  left  the  house. 

"  All  for  a  picture  ;  and  of  a  woman 
who  came  within  an  ace  of  being  my 
grandmother !  " 

But  late  that  night,  when  there  was 
no  light  in  the  room  and  all  was  so  dark 
that  even  the  eyes  of  the  portrait  could 
not  detect  him,  he  shoved  his  note  into 
its  old  place  between  her  shoulder  and 
the  frame.  And  there  he  left  it. 


101 


Two   Portraits 


II 


One  month  later  Cyrus  Harding  got 
into  a  train  at  the  Victoria  Station  and 
allowed  himself  to  be  dragged  from  the 
City  of  London  into  the  County  of 
Kent.  His  grandfather's  letter  had  de 
veloped  into  a  nuisance  of  depressing 
importance  now  that  its  presentation 
was  imminent.  It  was  to  keep  him 
twenty-four  hours  from  London,  where 
his  time  was  worth  something;  and  all 
for  a  useless  ceremony  of  no  possible 
benefit  to  anybody.  That  a  young  man 
should  travel  forty  miles  in  a  drenching 
rain  to  bore  an  old  lady  because  she 
once  knew  his  grandfather  was  a  folly 
for  which  he  could  find  no  justification. 
His  only  solace  was  from  the  conscious 
ness  of  his  own  wisdom  in  selecting  for 
this  errand  a  day  so  atrociously  uncom 
fortable  that  its  loss  was  of  small  im- 


Two  Portraits 


portance.  And  the  storm  showed  no 
signs  of  deserting  him.  A  heavier, 
wetter,  more  industrious  rain  he  had 
never  seen. 

At  the  little  sta 
tion  where  he 
alighted    he 
found  an  an 
cient  convey 
ance,  small  but 
unreasonably 
ponderous,  and 
this  he  entered. 
The    driver,    a 
very   old   man, 
who   might  have 
been  the  brother 
of  the  vehicle,  knew 
well   the   Caine- 
Vedder  house,  and 

headed  his  dripping  horse  in  an  oppo 
site  direction  from  the  village  whose 
church  tower  and  picturesque  chimneys 
Cyrus  had  seen  through  the  rain  from 
the  car  window. 

103 


Two  Portraits 

About  a  mile  from  the  station  they 
turned  from  the  turnpike  into  a  private 
driveway.  The  driveway  lay  along  the 
edge  of  a  wood,  and  swept  in  a  long 
curve  around  a  lawn  of  several  acres, 
in  the  centre  of  which  was  a  stagnant 
pond.  This  lawn,  or  rather  field,  for 
it  was  covered  with  high,  coarse  grass, 


and  evidently  allowed  to  take  care  of  it 
self,  afforded  an  excellent  view  of  a 
rambling,  irregular  structure,  long,  low, 
of  unrelated  parts,  some  of  stone  and 
some  of  brick,  with  here  and  there  an 
ivy-covered  wall  through  which  the 
windows  were  hardly  visible. 

The  door  was  opened  by  a  venerable 
104 


Two  Portraits 

maid,  who  ushered  him  into  a  spacious, 
quaint  old  drawing-room.  While  she 
went  upstairs  with  his  letter  of  introduc 
tion,  he  amused  himself  by  studying  the 
unusual  apartment  in  which  he  found 
himself.  It  was  a  long  but  narrow 
room,  with  lofty,  deep-embrasured,  mul- 
lioned  windows  that  looked  upon  the 
lawn.  His  grandfather's  house,  which 
heretofore  he  had  considered  as  the 
most  old-fashioned  habitation  upon  the 
earth,  was,  as  compared  with  this,  a 
museum  of  modern  improvements. 
Here  were  indications  of  an  antiquity 
beside  which  his  own  homestead  was  a 
frivolous  babe. 

The  carved  ceiling,  the  panelled 
wainscot,  white  but  discolored,  that 
extended  to  the  cornice  ;  the  long 
mantel,  the  faded  tapestry,  the  curious 
old  portraits,  all  formed  a  harmony  so 
solemn  and  subduing  that  he  shrunk 
from  moving  about,  for  fear  of  awaken 
ing  some  indefinable  thing  whose  slum 
bers  he  might  disturb. 
105 


Two   Portraits 

As     his     gaze     moved     reverentially 

along   the   walls,    it    fell    upon    a    little 

portrait  that  caused  him  an  unexpected 

sensation.      His 

:/    ..  eyes  opened 

^LH  |j        ~Lid&&i^^0ff  wider  in 

surprise 


A    PORTRAIT   OF    HIMSELF! 

as  he  looked  more  carefully  to  make 
sure  it  was  no  deception. 

A  portrait  of  himself! 

He  arose,  and,  going  nearer,  made  a 
closer  investigation.  His  own  self  was 
staring  calmly  hack,  amiably  but  with 
1 06 


Two  Portraits 

unfamiliar     seriousness,     and     certainly 
there  was  no   mistake. 

He  blinked,  then  drew  his  hand 
across  his  eyes.  His  mystification  was 
complete.  And  there  was  something 
weird  and  upsetting  in  thus  scrutinizing 
a  face  so  unmistakably  his  own.  He 
was  hopelessly  puzzled  ;  but,  a  moment 
later,  he  understood.  At  home  the  older 
people  had  often  spoken  of  the  striking 
resemblance  between  his  grandfather 
and  himself;  so  striking  was  it  that  at 
the  same  age  they  could  have  passed 
for  twins.  And  this,  probably,  was  a 
portrait  he  had  given  to  the  original  of 
the  painting  in  America.  He  smiled  at 
this  further  unfolding  of  the  old  gentle 
man's  secret. 

The  rustling  of  a  gown  caused  him 
to  wheel  suddenly  about  and  to  face  a 
second  surprise  far  more  upsetting  and 
important  than  the  first. 

The  portrait  in  America  had  come 
to  life  and  was  standing  before  him  ! 

Young,   fresh,  with  a  girlish   figure, 
107 


Two   Portraits 

and  the  same  eyes ;  her  hair  arranged 
precisely  as  in  the  likeness  beyond  the 
sea !  She  returned  his  look  with  an 
expression  of  astonishment  more  intense 
than  his  own.  The  lips  parted, —  those 
lips  whose  double  curves  he  knew  so 
well !  She  uttered  a  whispered  excla 
mation,  then  took  a  backward  step,  in 
serious  alarm,  and  groped  about  with  a 
hand,  as  if  seeking  support. 

Cyrus,  in  his  own  excitement,  neg 
lected  to  remember  that  this  young 
lady  had  every  reason  to  believe  that 
she  was  confronted  by  the  spirit  of  a 
youth  who  hid  sat  for  the  likeness 
behind  him  over  fifty  years  ago. 

He  came  nearer  to  get  a  better  look, 
and  she  retreated  step  by  step,  as  he 
approached.  Finally,  recalling  himself, 
he  apologized  :  — 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  but  I  am  so  fa 
miliar  with  your  face  —  I  mean  I  have 
seen  your  portrait  so  often  —  that  is,  a 
portrait  of  your  grandmother,  perhaps, 
that  I  was  very  much  surprised." 
108 


Two  Portraits 

Thereupon  she  recovered  her  own 
composure  and  waved  him  toward  a 
chair. 

"  Please  be  seated  ;  "  and  she  placed 
herself  upon  a  little  sofa  some  distance 
away.  This  extreme  formality  embar 
rassed  him.  Then,  partly  from  habit, 
and  partly  from  that  mental  vacuum 
which  visits  the  best  of  men  at  critical 
moments,  he  alluded  to  the  weather. 

"  It  is  a  pleasant  day." 

She  looked  toward  the  storm  that  was 
blowing  the  rain  in  drenching  sheets 
across  the  lawn,  and  answered  with  a 
serious  face,  — 

«  Yes,  it  is." 

Then  there  was  a  pause  which  she 
was  the  first  to  break. 

"  My  grandmother  will  be  ready  to 
see  you  in  a  moment.  She  is  an  invalid 
and  seldom  comes  downstairs." 

What  a  pleasant  voice  !  It  was  low 
and  soft,  and  he  waited  a  moment  in 
the  hope  that  she  would  go  on  and  say 
something  more.  Regarding  her  more 


Two   Portraits 

carefully,  he  was  struck  anew  by  the 
amazing  resemblance  to  the  picture. 
No  painter,  whatever  his  skill,  could 
have  reproduced  with  greater  faithful 
ness,  or  with  more  precision,  the  details 
of  the  face  before  him.  As  she  looked 
up  from  the  folded  hands  in  her  lap 
and  encountered  his  earnest  gaze,  she 
seemed  surprised  and  somewhat  embar 
rassed.  Ashamed  of  thus  staring  her 
out  of  countenance,  he  hastened  to  re 
trieve  himself. 

"  It  is  curious  a  likeness  painted  so 
long  ago  should  bear  such  a  startling 
resemblance  to  another  person." 

Involuntarily  her  eyes  moved  to  the 
little  portrait  near  the  chimney,  then 
back  to  the  speaker.  There  certainly 
was  no  doubt  of  the  resemblance.  The 
painting  was  an  accurate  transcript  in 
color,  features,  and  expression,  of  his 
own  face,  which  at  that  moment  was 
turned  toward  the  window.  He  was 
doing  his  best  to  think  of  an  appropriate 
remark.  There  was  something  in  this 


Two  Portraits 

girl's  presence  that  stimulated  him  to  a 
brilliant  effort,  yet  his  head  was  never 
so  empty. 

"  Yes,  it  is  quite  remarkable,"  she 
acquiesced. 

Then  with  a  glance  in  which  he 
intended  to  convey  only  as  much  admi 
ration  as  was  consistent  with  a  first 
interview,  he  added, — 

u  Attractive  as  it  is,  however,  it  falls 
far  short  of  doing  justice  to  the  de 
scendant  of  the  sitter." 

She  looked  at  him  in  surprise.  And 
at  this  moment  he  detected,  for  the  first 
time,  that  expression  he  knew  so  well, 
as  of  repressing  a  smile.  For  a  second 
the  smile  became  almost  perceptible, 
then  disappeared. 

"  This  is  a  case,"  he  continued,  "  that 
proves  a  portrait  can  be  a  truthful  like 
ness,  and  yet  miss  the  greatest  charm 
of  the  person  whom  at  the  present 
moment  it  most  resembles." 

Again  she  regarded  him  with  wide- 
open  eyes.  She  had  heard  that  men 


Two   Portraits 

were  vain,  but  for  this  stupendous, 
overpowering  mixture  of  simplicity  and 
conceit  she  was  unprepared.  To  be 
sure,  he  was  the  first  American  she  had 
ever  met,  and  this  inspired  her  to  an 
heroic  effort  to  consider  him  from  his 
own  point  of  view. 

With  his  best  smile  he  went  on,  — 
u  No  face  could   make  a  stronger  or 
more    lasting    impression,   for    no    face 
that    I    have    ever    seen    represents    so 
much   that   is   lovable  and   winning." 

Her  lips  parted  for  a  polite  acquies 
cence,  but  the  voice  failed  to  respond. 
In  this  man's  complacent  vanity  there 
was  something  so  grotesque,  so  over 
whelming  and  incredible,  that  her  organs 
of  speech  suffered  a  temporary  paralysis. 
She  sat  facing  him  in  dumb  surprise. 
Cyrus  saw  this  look,  but  mistook  its 
cause.  He  now  remembered  that  Eng 
lish  girls  were  considered  more  simple 
than  their  American  cousins;  that  their 
wits  were  less  nimble  and  their  percep 
tions  duller.  She  evidently  had  not 
114 


Two  Portraits 

understood  him.  He  must  use  a  heavier 
hand.  Guided  by  this  happy  thought, 
he  added, — 

"  In  the  portrait,  while  the  hair,  the 
eyes  and  mouth  are  all  of  exquisite 
beauty,  one  cannot  help  feeling,  in  spite 
of  its  wealth  of  expression,  that  the 
artist  has  not  done  justice  to  the  living 
face  it  so  strongly  resembles." 

She  began  to  be  annoyed,  and  some 
what  alarmed.  And  yet,  with  her  alarm, 
she  felt  a  sympathy.  In  spite  of  his 
nauseating  vanity,  the  voice  and  bearing 
were  those  of  a  gentleman,  and  there 
was  something  in  his  manner  that  belied 
the  vainglory  of  his  words.  Cyrus  was 
quick  to  perceive  that  these  speeches 
were  unwelcome.  Leaning  back  in  his 
chair,  he  concluded  by  saying,  — 

"  Excuse  me  if  my  speaking  in  this 
way  has  offended  you,  but  you  would  un 
derstand  if  you  could  see  the  portrait." 

"  I  am  familiar  with  your  portrait." 

"  With  my  portrait  ?  " 

"  You  mean  that  one,  I   suppose  ?  " 


Two   Portraits 

and  she  bowed  coldly  toward  the 
chimney. 

Cyrus  blushed  to  the  very  roots  of 
his  straw-colored  hair.  What  an  ass 
she  must  think  him  ! 

"Oh,  no  !  Please  don't  think 
that  !  "  he  exclaimed,  straightening  up. 
u  I  referred  to  the  portrait  of  your 
self —  I  mean  your  grandmother  —  in 
America ! " 

Again  he  saw  the  familiar  look  as  if 
she  had  just  been  laughing,  or  was  on 
the  verge  of  it.  This  increased  his 
embarrassment,  and  he  began  a  further 
explanation.  But  there  was  a  step  in 
the  hall  as  of  a  lame  person,  and  with 
it  the  rustle  of  an  approaching  gown. 
He  felt  a  serious  grudge  against  her 
grandmother  for  arriving  at  such  a 
moment. 

As  the  old  lady  entered  he  looked  in 
vain  for  some  resemblance  to  the  paint 
ing  in  America  ;  but  whatever  similarity 
might  formerly  have  existed  had  evi 
dently  long  since  departed.  Even  the 
116 


Two  Portraits 

features  and  proportions  of  the  head 
seemed  altered.  The  upper  lip  was 
longer,  the  whole  face  heavier,  and,  it 
appeared  to  him,  of  a  harder  expression 
than  in  the  olden  days.  He  made  a 
low  bow  and  advanced  to  take  the 
hand  of  welcome  when  offered. 

u  Your  grandmother  says  as  she  is 
ready  to  see  the  gentleman,  Miss  Ethel, 
and  'opes  he  will  walk  upstairs.'* 

Cyrus  straightened  up.  Anothei 
blush,  hotter  than  the  first,  spread  over 
his  face,  and  he  felt  it  behind  his  ears 
as  it  wandered  leisurely  to  the  back  of 
his  neck  and  tingled  down  his  spine. 

"  Very  well,"  the  young  lady  an 
swered  ;  "  we  will  go  up  at  once." 

Cyrus  turned  his  eyes  toward  Miss 
Vedder's  face.  In  her  own  eyes  and 
about  the  edges  of  her  mouth  he  found 
the  exasperating  look  that  used  to  mys 
tify  him  in  the  portrait,  but  now  inten 
sified  to  a  positive  smile ;  gentle  and 
evanescent,  half  mischievous,  and  evi 
dently  enjoyable  to  the  owner.  And 
117 


Two   Portraits 

this  time  really  there.  At  this  another 
blush,  deeper,  hotter,  and  slower  than 
the  last,  crawled  over  his  angry  face  and 
then,  as  it  were,  seated  itself  to  further 
enjoy  the  situation.  With  these  ances 
tral  blushes,  which  only  assailed  him 
when  least  endurable,  he  had  also  in 
herited  a  hot,  sudden  little  temper ;  and 
for  the  moment  he  felt  a  strong  desire 
to  slam  a  door  in  these  women's  faces 
and  march  out  into  the  storm. 

When  he  fully  recovered  his  senses, 
he  was  upstairs  in  a  large,  old-fashioned 
chamber,  talking  calmly  and  with  out 
ward  amiability  to  the  unmistakable 
original  of  the  portrait.  The  hair  was 
white,  the  features  changed  with  pass 
ing  years  ;  but  it  was  a  handsome,  kindly, 
high-bred  face,  and  he  felt  like  offering 
a  humble  apology  when  he  compared 
it  with  the  tough  old  visage  of  the 
housekeeper.  Mrs.  Caine-Vedder  gave 
him  a  cordial  welcome,  was  sincerely 
glad  to  see  him,  and  insisted  upon  his 
promising  them  a  little  visit. 


Two  Portraits 

The  result  was  that  three  days  later 
Cyrus,  with  his  trunk,  came  down  from 
London  for  a  fortnight's  sojourn  in  this 
weather-stained,  ivy-bound,  restful  old 
homestead. 


Two  Portraits 


III 


In  the  deep  recess  of  one  of  the 
Tudor  windows  of  the  drawing-room 
were  seated  Cyrus  and  the  granddaugh 
ter  of  the  portrait.  It  was  the  golden 
twilight  of  an  October  afternoon,  that 
mysterious  hour  when  the  human  being 
with  a  poem  in  his  soul  rinds  it  toying 
with  his  brain ;  when  proudest  hearts 
yield  to  the  bondage  that,  since  love 
began,  has  brought  unspeakable  happi 
ness  or  enduring  grief. 

Then  is  the  hour  for  care  and  cir 
cumspection  ;  and  then  is  the  hour 
when  care  and  circumspection  are  of 
fensive  to  a  lover's  soul. 

The  maiden's  eyes  were  turned  to 
ward  the  light,  looking  over  the  un- 
kept  lawn  to  the  golden  band  along 
the  western  sky.  Her  thoughts  might 
be  many  miles  away,  but  the  young 


Two  Portraits 

man  was  not  deceived  by  appearances. 
While  she  gazed  thus  absently  upon 
nothing  in  particular,  he,  with  no  as 
sumption  of  indifference,  was  studying 
in  beatific  content  the  dainty  head  and 
face  that  seemed  unconscious  of  his 
existence.  But  the  dark  eyes  at  last 
turned  slowly  toward  him. 

"  Is  it  the  custom  in  America  to 
stare  at  a  girl  until  she  has  to  leave  the 
room  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  when  there  is  nothing  else 
to  look  at." 

"  There  is  your  own  portrait.  It 
seems  to  excite  your  enthusiasm  more 
than  anything  else  in  the  house." 

"  Oh,  rub  it  in !  You  don't  mind 
hitting  a  man  when  he 's  down." 

"  But  you  are  never  down.  You 
are  always  up." 

"  Why  do  you  say  that  ?  " 

"  Because  you  are  irrepressible.  At 
times  almost  unendurable." 

"  Thank  you.      I  wonder  if  all  Eng 
lish  girls  are  so  subtle  in  their  praises ; 
123 


Two   Portraits 

so     overflowing    with     gentleness     and 
tender    consideration    for   others." 

"  No ;  but  they  would  be  if  pursued 
(Jay  after  day  by  obnoxious  invaders 
who  insisted  upon  marrying  them  in 
spite  of  themselves  ;  if  from  unexpected 
corners,  wherever  they  went,  offers  of 
marriage  were  perpetually  jumping  out. 
Take  to-day  as  a  specimen.  This  morn 
ing  all  the  time  we  rode,  and  afterwards 
at  golf,  then  all  through  the  woods  to  the 
village  and  back,  the  same  persistent, 
sulky,  bullying  foreigner  at  my  elbow 
insisting  that  I  shall  fall  in  love  with 
him.  And  here  you  are  again ;  and 
you  have  been  at  it  for  an  hour !  " 

With  a  long-drawn  sigh  the  haughty 
little  head  leaned  wearily  back  against 
the  panelling  of  the  window.  Cyrus 
seemed  absorbed  in  the  sunset  and  made 
no  reply.  There  was  a  long  pause, 
which  at  last  she  broke  by  asking: 

u  Is  it  getting  ready  for  a  storm  ?  " 

"  Probably.     That  is  the  usual  con 
dition  on  this  soggy  little  island." 
124 


Two  Portraits 

After  another  silence  he  continued  : 

"  Although  I  shall  never  see  you 
again,  I  am  glad  to  have  been  here." 

"  Thank  you." 

"  I  am  glad  to  have  seen  with  my 
own  eyes  a  type  of  woman  I  had  read 
about,  but  in  whose  existence  I  never 
believed,  —  the  woman  of  inviting  ex 
terior,  still  young,  yet  with  a  heart  too 
cold  and  tough  for  human  affection." 

«  Yes  ?  " 

"  A  parrot  or  a  fat  old  cat  will  easily 
absorb  what  superfluous  love  you  will 
ever  bestow  upon  anything  outside 
yourself." 

A  faint  smile  came  into  the  face  of 
Miss  Ethel  Vedder,  but  Cyrus  missed 
it. 

UI  suppose,"  he  went  on,  "you  will 
marry  the  usual  bad-mannered,  long- 
upper-lipped,  self-satisfied,  dull-witted, 
brandy-and-soda  Englishman." 

"  If  I  can  catch  him." 

From  his  end  of  the  window  came 
a  long-drawn  sigh,  followed  by  a  gen- 
125 


Two   Portraits 

tie  humming  and  a  poor  accompa 
niment  by  his  lingers  on  a  pane  of 
glass. 

"  Well,  after  to-morrow  you  will  be 
rid  of  me  ;  "  and  he  arose  and  strode 
away  from  the  window.  With  his 
hands  in  his  pockets  he  stood  gazing 
gloomily  upon  the  full-length  portrait 
of  a  cavalier  of  the  time  of  Charles 
the  First. 

"  Who  is  this  mean-faced  old  fool  in 
pantalets  ?  " 

Her  eyes  turned  lazily  in  that 
direction. 

"  A  gentleman  who  never  forced 
his  way  into  private  houses  to  insult 
the  ancestors  of  his  hostess." 

Cyrus  smiled,  and  returning  to  the 
window  resumed  his  seat,  but  this  time 
the  distance  between  himself  and  the 
lady  was  considerably  less.  Leaning 
forward,  he  began  earnestly,— 

"Oh,  Ethel  —  " 

"  You  must  n't  call  me  that." 

u  Why   keep   this   up  ?      You    know 


YOU  MUSTN'T  CALL  ME  THAT 


Two  Portraits 

I  love  you  sincerely,  with  my  whole 
soul,  as  I  never — " 

u  There  you  go  again  !  "  and  with  a 
sigh,  as  from  a  patient  spirit  that  is 
finally  goaded  beyond  endurance,  she 
arose  and  walked  away.  He  followed 
and  stood  beside  her,  near  the  fire. 

"  Very  well,  then,  you  shall  have  no 
more  of  it.  I  have  annoyed  you  for 
the  last  —  " 

"  Did  you  do  that  ?  "  she  interrupted 
in  an  excited  whisper,  catching  him  by 
the  arm  and  pointing  toward  the  wall. 

"  Do  what  ?  " 

"The  paper  in  that  frame!  Did 
you  put  it  there  ?  " 

He  saw  something  white,  like  the 
corner  of  a  note,  projecting  from  the 
inner  edge  of  the  frame  that  held 

O 

the    little   portrait   of  his   grandfather. 

"No.      I  did  not." 

In  her  agitation  she  appeared  to  for 
get  her  antipathy  to  the  young  man,  and 
the  grasp  upon  his  arm  was  not  relaxed. 

"  I  will  tell  you  something,"  she  went 
9  I29 


Two   Portraits 

on,  in  the  same  hurried  whisper.  "  No, 
I  won't  either ;  "  and  withdrawing  her 
hand,  she  advanced  timidly  toward  the 
picture,  took  the  paper  from  its  place, 
and  went  over  to  the  window.  There 
she  read  it  carefully,  once,  and  then  a 
second  time.  He  had  followed  her 
across  the  room,  and  as  she  stood  be 
fore  him  in  the  glow  of  the  fading  sun 
set,  another  and  a  deeper  glow  came 
creeping  over  her  face.  Lowering  her 
eyes,  and  in  a  voice  so  faint  that  he 
bent  forward  to  catch  it,  she  said  : 

"  I  think,  on  the  whole,  that  I  will 
tell  you." 

Then,  turning  away  her  eyes  to  avoid 
his  own,  she  continued  :  u  One  even 
ing,  about  this  hour,  a  month  or  two 
ago,  I  was  sitting  in  that  old  chair 
facing  your  port  —  your  grandfather's 
portrait,  —  and  1  was  wondering  if  the 
original  of  the  face  was  as  interesting 
as  the  picture." 

"  Really,  did  you  do  that  ?  " 

"  But  that  was  before  meeting  the 
130 


Two  Portraits 

obnoxious  American  who  happens  to 
resemble  it." 

"  That  speech  is  more  like  you  ;  " 
and  he  turned  away  and  looked  out 
the  window. 

"Well,  as  I  sat  there  I  saw,  in  the 
dim  light,  the  edge  of  a  note,  and  as  I 
watched  the  little  white  point  it  came 
further  and  further  out,  as  if  slowly 
pushed  from  behind.  I  thought  I  must 
be  dreaming,  but  there  it  certainly  was, 
and  no  human  hands  were  near  it. 
You  may  think  me  silly,  but  I  was 
frightened  and  left  the  room.  I  came 
back,  however,  mustered  all  my  cour 
age,  and  took  it  to  my  chamber.  There 
were  two  lines,  — 

"  « If  in  all  this  world  there  's  a  girl  like  you, 
Then  count  me  a  lover  stanch  and  true.'  ' 

As  these  words  reached  his  ears, 
Cyrus  bent  forward  in  speechless  aston 
ishment  with  a  look  so  strained  and 
so  eager  that  she  stopped  short  in  her 

story. 


Two   Portraits 

"  Why,  what  is  the  matter  ?  " 

u  Did  you  answer  that  note  ?  "  he 
asked,  still  bending  forward  with  the 
keenest  interest. 

"  Yes." 

"  And  you  tucked  your  answer  in 
the  frame  yonder  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  you  wrote, — 

"  '  Thank  you,  but  I  have  no  mind 
For  a  lover  so  perversely  blind.  '  ' 

It  was  the  young  lady's  turn  to  be 
surprised,  and  her  eyes  opened  wide  in 
amazement. 

"  Why,  how  did  you  know  ?  " 

"  Because  I  received  it  in  Amer 
ica.  I  found  it  in  the  corner  of  the 
portrait  of  yourself  where  I  placed  the 
first." 

"  Ton  placed  the  first !  You  wrote 
it  ?  " 

"I  did." 

She  took  a  step  backward  and  leaned 
against  the  side  of  the  window.  With 
132 


Two  Portraits 

her  astonishment  there  was  also  a  touch 
of  fear. 

"  But,  tell  me,"  he  said,  "  why  you 
wrote  c  perversely  blind  '  ?  Why  was  I 
blind  ?  " 

u  Because  the  stupid  youth  who  sent 
the  message  had  his  eyes  upon  me  all 
the  time,  and  yet  pretended  to  doubt 
my  existence." 

Cyrus  smiled.  "  Of  course  !  And  I 
hardly  slept  that  night  for  trying  to 
guess  what  you  meant." 

"  Then  you  wrote  this  one,  too  ?  " 
and  she  held  forth  the  note  that  was 
just  received. 

He  read  it  aloud,  — 

"  Why  do  you  say  I  am  blind  ?  Why  give 
such  a  meaningless  answer  when  you  know  I 
am  in  earnest  ?  For  me  your  face  shall  always 
be  the  first  and  dearest. 

"  Please  answer.  C.    H." 

Mystified,  he  looked  into  her  face, 
then  down  again  at  the  paper. 

"  Yes.      I  wrote  it.      These   are  my 
initials.      Why  did  n't  you  answer  ?  " 
'33 


Two   Portraits 

For  a  moment  she  was  too  much 
overcome  to  reply.  Gazing  at  him  in 
silence,  she  was  wondering  what  inex 
plicable  power  had  seen  fit  to  concern 
itself  with  this  affair.  It  was  super 
natural  ;  so  fairy-like  and  miraculous, 
so  beyond  her  comprehension,  that  it 
brought  a  feeling  of  awe  and  a  mild, 
indefinable  terror.  But  when  he  re 
peated  his  question,  she  answered,— 

"  How  could  I  ?  It  was  getting  too 
serious,  and  I  had  no  idea  from  whom 
it  came.  And,  besides,  to  tell  the  truth, 
I  was  a  little  frightened.  In  fact,  I  am 
now,"  she  added  with  a  nervous  laugh, 
u  for  it  is  all  very  mysterious.  How 
do  you  explain  it  ?  " 

Cyrus  smiled  and  came  a  little  nearer. 

u  By  the  intervention  of  an  immortal 
messenger,  —  the  little  god  who  helps 
true  lovers." 

Again  the  color  was  in  her  cheeks, 
and  that  look  about  the  mouth  he  knew 
so  well ;  then  a  smile  that  set  his  pulse 
to  beating  faster. 

"34 


Two  Portraits 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right,"  she  said, 
and  held  out  her  hands. 

But  the  young  man  ignored  the 
hands,  and  took  the  girl  herself  into  his 
arms. 


The  Man  Who  Vanished 


The  Man  Who  Vanished 


A 


CERTAIN  hunter,  clad  in  appro 
priate  raiment,  and  armed  with 
a  fowling-piece  of  costly  mechanism, 
sought  diversion  in  a  forest. 

O 

His  first  effort  was  a  failure.  The 
squirrel  at  which  he  aimed  darted  around 
the  tree  as  the  trigger  was  pulled,  and 
looked  down  with  an  irritating  expres 
sion.  There  was  a  look  in  his  eye 
which  seemed  to  say, — 

"  Not  this  time,  smarty  !  " 

And    the    movement    was    executed 
with  a  nervous  twitching  of  the  tail- 
itself  an  impertinence. 

The   hunter,  a   man   of  dignity   and 

social   position,  was  justly   annoyed  by 

this  want  of  consideration,  and  he  fired 

again.      But  the  agile   native   continued 

139 


The   Man   Who  Vanished 

to  keep  the  trunk  of  the  tree  between 
them.  At  last  the  hunter,  disgusted 
by  the  animal's  self-will,  passed  on  for 
other  game. 

He  had  been  reared  by  pious  parents ; 
and  that  one  of  the  lower  animals  should 
thus  take  upon  himself  to  oppose  the 
will  of  man,  created  in  God's  image, 
brought  a  shock  to  his  higher  nature, 
and,  for  the  time  being,  almost  shook 
his  faith  in  Providence.  But  this  faith, 
a  few  minutes  later,  was  re-established. 
Taking  deliberate  and  careful  aim  at 
a  noisy  woodpecker,  and  pulling  the 
trigger  before  the  bird  was  aware  of  his 
presence,  he  brought  him  to  the  ground 
with  his  head  nearly  severed  from  his 
body.  Leaning  the  gun  against  a  tree, 
he  stepped  forward  and  picked  up  the 
corpse.  By  one  of  its  legs  he  held  it 
before  him  and  admired  its  beauty  ;  and 
there  came  a  thrill  of  pride  that  he  had 
done  his  work  so  well.  As  thus 
he  stood,  in  silent  contemplation,  the 
crackling  of  a  twig  made  him  turn 
140 


The   Man   Who   Vanished 

about,  and  the  thing  he  saw  drove  the 
blood  from  his  cheeks.  A  large  brown 
bear,  erect  upon  his  hind  legs,  his  eyes 
on  a  level  with  his  own,  stood  within  a 
dozen  feet,  his  arms  akimbo,  and  a  smile 
upon  his  face.  A  cold  tremor  crawled 
up  the  hunter's  spine,  as,  with  dilated 
eyes  and  fallen  jaw,  he  took  a  back 
ward  step.  One  step  only,  and  then  he 
stopped,  for  his  knees  seemed  giving 
way  beneath  him. 

"  That  was  a  good  shot,"  said  the 
bear,  with  a  pleasant  nod,  but  his  smile, 
although  far-reaching  and  persistent,  did 
not  seem,  to  the  hunter,  the  outward 
expression  of  an  inward  benevolence. 
u  Had  a  grudge  against  him  ?  " 

The  man  tried  to  answer,  but  his 
lips  were  dry,  and  his  tongue  refused  to 
work  ;  so  he  shook  his  head. 

"  Noisy,  perhaps,  but  he  was  a  good 
enough  fellow.  I  know  his  wife ;  a 
nice  bird.  She  '11  be  sorry.  But  't  was 
a  good  shot,  although  you  did  take  him 
at  a  disadvantage  ;  eh  ?  " 
141 


The  Man  Who  Vanished 

"  I  suppose  I  did,"  whispered  the 
hunter,  whose  voice  was  hoarse  and 
came  with  difficulty. 

"  Shot  him  because  you  are  uncom 
fortably  empty  ? "  inquired  the  bear, 
still  smiling,  as  he  glanced  at  the  gen 
erous  waist  of  his  companion. 

"  Oh,  no." 

u  From  public  spirit,  perhaps  ?  You 
thought  the  world  better  without  him  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Just  for  the  fun  of  it  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  so." 

"  Well,  it 's  good  sport.  That  is, 
of  course,  for  the  chap  who  holds  the 
gun." 

The  sportsman  stole  a  glance  toward 
his  weapon,  which,  unfortunately,  was 
the  other  side  of  the  offensive  brute. 

"  Is  n't  it  ?  " 

"  Er-what  ?  " 

u  You  seem  nervous,"  and  the  crea 
ture  laughed,  his  loose  sides  shaking 
as  if  something  funny  had  been  said. 
"You  don't  want  that  gun.  It  might 
142 


The   Man  Who  Vanished 

go  off  and  hurt  something.  We  are 
safer  without  it."  And  he  continued 
to  smile.  "  You  seem  embarrassed," 
he  said  with  another  offensive  chuckle. 
"  I  am  afraid  you  are  not  enjoying 
yourself.  You  don't  appear  to  possess 
a  very  fine  sense  of  humor." 

The  hunter  did  not  answer.  He  was 
considering  the  chances  of  making  a 
dash  to  one  side,  then  jumping  for  the 
gun.  The  bear  seemed  to  divine  this 
intent,  for  he  laid  a  paw,  with  the  claws 
out,  on  the  gentleman's  sleeve,  saying  in 
a  cheery,  conversational  manner,  — 

"  It 's  curious  what  a  difference  in 
results  the  position  of  a  gun  can  make. 
If,  for  instance,  you  had  held  on  to  that 
weapon  you  would  have  bear's  meat  to 
spare,  to  say  nothing  of  a  splendid 
hearth-rug  for  next  winter.  Whereas 
now  you  postpone  the  bear's  meat, 
and  that  hearth-rug  will  serve  for 
my  overcoat,  and  a  warm  one,  too. 
Loose,  perhaps,  but  a  nice  comfort 
able  fit." 

10  145 


The   Man  Who  Vanished 

The  hunter  could  not  answer.  His 
lips  moved,  but  there  was  no  sound. 
The  stern  voice  that  brought  terror  to 
all  in  his  employ  —  and  even  to  his 
own  family  —  had  fled  to  some  remote 
corner  of  his  interior,  and  refused  to 
come  forth. 

"  It  must  require  some  courage  to 
march  into  the  forest,  armed  only  with 
a  shot-gun,  among  all  these  blood 
thirsty  birds  and  squirrels.  But  then,  of 
course,  a  hunter  has  to  take  chances." 

There  was  a  silence,  for  the  man 
said  nothing.  He  was  trying  to  get  his 
wits  together,  but  it  required  all  his 
intellect  to  keep  his  knees  from  letting 
him  down. 

"  By  the  way,  what  's  the  price  of 
bear's  meat  this  morning  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know." 

The  man  tried  to  edge  away,  but  the 
claws  were  still  in  the  sleeve. 

"  Excuse  my  reverting  to  it,  but 
did  you  kill  that  woodpecker  in  self- 
defence  ?  " 

146 


The  Man  Who  Vanished 

«  No." 

"  Children  starving  ?  " 

"No." 

"  From  a  general  sense  of  duty, 
perhaps  ?  " 

"  No.     Just  for  sport." 

"  I  am  glad  you  approve  of  that  sort 
of  thing,  as  it  gives  me  your  own 
personal  indorsement  of  a  little  plan  of 
my  own.  I  am  something  of  a  hunter 
myself." 

"  Yes  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes !  But  I  do  it  for  busi 
ness.  I  have  a  family  to  feed,  and 
they  are  hungry  now.  When  I  left 
home  this  morning,  I  gave  my  word 
that  I  would  bring  a  dinner  or  not  re 
turn,  and  a  fellow  takes  a  big  risk  in 
getting  between  a  hunter  and  his  gun, 
especially  when  they  are  less  than  ten 
feet  apart.  By  the  way,  what  time 
is  it  ?  " 

The  hunter  looked  at  his  watch. 

"  How  your  hand  trembles  !      Does 
it  always  shake  like  that  ?  " 
147 


The  Man  Who  Vanished 

"  No." 

"  Only  when  you  are  tired  ?  " 

"  Perhaps,"  and  his  voice  was  a 
hoarse  whisper. 

"  What  you  need  is  a  rest ;  a  good 
long  one.  But  what  time  did  you  say 
it  was  ?  " 

"  Ten  minutes  of  eleven." 

"  Why,  we  ought  to  dine  at  noon, 
and  they  expect  me  to  bring  the  dinner. 
Won't  you  come  and  rill  a  place  ?  I 
might  say,  fill  several  places."  And 
again  his  sides  began  to  shake.  u  I 
don't  know  how  much  of  a  diner-out 
you  are,  but  you  will  never  be  of  more 
service  at  a  meal  than  you  will  to-day." 

Then,  placing  his  paw  inside  the 
hunter's  arm,  they  started  off.  The 
host  seemed  amiable  and  tried  his  best, 
as  they  walked  along,  to  engage  his 
guest  in  conversation,  but  the  man  ap 
peared  depressed,  and  was  silent.  He 
simply  answered  questions  until  the 
bear  inquired  if  he  had  a  family. 

"  Yes,  I  have  !  a  wife  and  two  chil- 
148 


The   Man  Who  Vanished 

dren.     Think  of  them  if  you  have  no 
consideration   for   me  !  " 

They  stopped,  and  stood  facing  each 
other,  but  there  was  always  a  paw  on 
the  hunter's  arm. 

"  Are  they  starving  ?  " 

«  No." 

u  But  if  they  were  starving  and  I 
had  appeared  in  your  front  yard  this 
morning,  can  you  gi\^e  me  your  word 
of  honor  there  would  not  have  been 
bear  for  dinner  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  No,  I  suppose  not.  But  as  my 
wife  and  three  daughters  are  dying  of 
starvation,  literally  fading  away  before 
my  eyes,  I  know  that  you,  as  a  father, 
will  not  blame  me  for  supplying  them 
with  a  square  meal.  And,  by  the  way, 
if  it  were  your  good  fortune  to  serve  as 
a  banquet  for  a  nice  family  of  bears  — 
a  thoroughly  appreciative  and  grateful 
family  —  would  it  make  any  difference 
to  you  in  what  style  you  were  brought 
on  ? " 

149 


The  Man  Who  Vanished 

The  hunter  licked  his  lips  and 
wobbled  his  jaw,  but  he  failed  to 
answer,  and  they  disappeared  among 
the  trees. 

There  was  soon  a  great  rejoicing  in 
the  Bruin  family.  And  later  on,  hav 
ing  rid  themselves  of  that  goneness 
which  is  the  inevitable  result  of  meals 
too  long  deferred,  they  passed  a  fuller 
and  a  happier  afternoon  than  they  had 
known  for  many  months. 

This  tale  is  not  a  sad  one  even  from 
a  human  point  of  view,  as  the  man  was 
wealthy  and  very  close,  and  his  family, 
had  he  lived,  would  have  derived  little 
benefit  from  his  money.  Moreover, 
he  was  a  bully  at  home  and  used  to 
open  his  wife's  letters. 


150 


A  Bachelor's   Supper 


A   Bachelor's   Supper 

AW  HEN  one  man  has  served  another 
for  twenty  years  as  valet,  chamber 
maid  and  errand-boy,  he  not  only  ac 
quires  an  accurate  knowledge  of  his 
master's  life  and  habits,  but  he  forms 
definite  opinions  as  to  his  inner  man 
and  past  career.  Moreover,  there  are 
few  secrets  he  has  not  guessed  at. 

Old  Clem  knew  Mr.  Valentine  had 
led  a  comfortable  and  uneventful  bach 
elor  existence  during  the  last  dozen 
years.  He  also  knew,  or  rather  had 
heard,  that  as  a  younger  man  he  had 
tasted  freely  of  life's  pleasures  ;  that  his 
youth  had  been  jolly  and  his  manhood 
genial.  Now,  a  handsome  old  gentle 
man  of  seventy,  always  courteous  and 
sometimes  merry,  with  a  well-behaved 


A   Bachelor's  Supper 

constitution  and  a  sufficient  fortune,  he 
was  gliding  gracefully  down  the  shady 
side  of  life.  Although  still  an  occa 
sional  diner-out,  he  seldom  entertained 
in  his  own  apartments  and  Clem  was 
naturally  surprised,  the  night  before 
Christmas,  on  being  told  to  have  the 
table  set  for  eight  people  at  half-past 
eleven.  It  was  then  nearly  ten  o'clock. 

"  But,  sah,  dey  ain't  suppah  for  no 
eight  people  !  " 

"  Never  mind  that,  Clem." 

"  Never  mind  de  suppah  !  Den 
whar  's  de  use  in  settin'  places  ?  " 

"  That 's  all  right,  Clem  ;  you  just 
set  the  table,  and  put  on  the  very  best 
china.  Put  on  the  best  we  have  or 
everything.  It  is  a  sudden  idea  of 
mine,  —  a  little  Christmas  celebration, 
—  and  I  want  it  as  perfect  as  possible." 

Clem's  dark  face  expressed  a  mild 
disapproval,  and  he  asked  with  a  touch 
of  irony, — 

"  Any  wine  ?  " 

"  Yes,  put  on  one  bottle  of  that  old 
156 


A   Bachelor's  Supper 

Madeira,"  and  then  added  as  if  to  him 
self,  "  that  is  a  ladies'  wine." 

"  Ladies  !  "  said  Clem,  and  this  time 
there  was  fearless  disapprobation  in 
his  tone.  u  Is  der  to  be  nuthin'  but 
ladies  ?  " 

But  Mr.  Valentine  seemed  to  be 
drifting  off  into  a  revery,  and  made  no 
answer.  Clem  waited  a  moment,  then 
left  the  room.  With  serious  misgiv 
ings  he  began  the  preparations  for  what 
promised  to  be  an  exceptionally  unsatis 
fying  banquet. 

As  Mr.  Valentine  sat  before  the  fire, 
his  clean-cut  features  and  handsome 
eyes  made  it  easy  to  believe  the  stories 
of  his  early  successes  with  the  gentler 
sex.  Although  over  seventy,  he  re 
tained  the  bearing  and  manner  of  a 
youngish  man. 

And  now,  in  his  big  chair,  the  half- 
closed  eyes  shutting  out  the  scene  before 
him,  he  goes  back  some  forty  years  to 
a  certain  ball-room  on  an  eventful  sum 
mer  night.  He  takes  her  from  the 


A   Bachelor's   Supper 

other  dancers  out  into  the  moonlight, 
down  to  the  little  boat-house.  And 
then,  just  for  the  joke  of  it,  she  in  her 
ball-dress,  he  in  a  swallow-tail,  they  get 
into  a  boat  and  row  over  to  the  island, 


the  music  from  the   shore  filling  the  air 
about  them. 

How  long  they  stayed  upon  the  rocks, 
how  close  they  sat,  or  what  he  said  to 
her  or  she  to  him,  was  never  published  ; 
but  when  they  wish  to  return,  the  boat 
is  gone.  He  sees  it  floating  down  the 
158 


A   Bachelor's  Supper 

river  a  hundred  yards  away.  Then 
there  is  a  clinging  scene,  she  in  her  ball- 
dress  and  he  in  his  swallow-tail,  and  he 
remembers  the  moist  eyes  and  quivering 
lips.  He  hurries  to  the  lower  end  of 
the  island,  removes  the  swallow-tail,  — 
and  everything  else,  —  and  plunging  in, 
strikes  out  into  the  black  river.  The  cur 
rent  is  with  him,  and  he  reaches  the  boat. 
But  the  pulling  back  !  Now,  in  his  old 
age,  he  wonders  how  he  did  it.  Half 
an  hour  later  they  re-enter  the  ball-room, 
while  the  last  dance  is  on.  They  also 
take  a  spin  about  the  room,  and  no  one 
suspects  what  has  happened. 

He  rose  from  his  chair,  with  a  long 
sigh,  and  stepped  into  the  dining-room 
where  Clem  had  started  a  fire  and  put  a 
leaf  in  the  table.  These  serious  prepa 
rations  make  him  realize  what  a  childish 
entertainment  he  is  giving  himself. 

"  'T  is  a    tribute   to  them  ;    and   who 
knows  if  I  shall  see  another  Christmas  ? 
Moreover,  if  I  choose  to   make  a  fool 
of  myself,  it  is  my  own  affair." 
'59 


A   Bachelor's   Supper 

Clem  entered  with  a  large  pasteboard 
box. 

"  Dis  yer  's  just  come,  sah.  It 's 
flowers,  I  reckon." 

"  Ah,  yes,  those  are  the  flowers. 
There  are  seven  bunches  in  there, 
Clem.  Put  a  bunch  at  each  plate,  ex 
cept  mine." 

Clem  retired  to  the  kitchen  ;  and  as 
he  laid  the  box  in  a  cool  place,  he  re 
marked  to  the  cook,  — 

u  Hope  dey  '11  like  der  smell  o'  dese 
yer  flowers,  for  it  looks  mighty  like  dey 
was  n't  goin'  ter  git  anything  else." 

Mr.  Valentine  in  the  mean  time  re 
turned  to  his  library  and  seated  himself 
at  an  old-fashioned  desk.  From  a  little 
drawer  he  took  a  letter  and  a  daguerro- 
type.  The  letter  was  yellow  and  con 
siderably  worn,  with  the  appearance 
of  having  been  opened  and  read  and 
laid  away  a  great  many  times.  He 
placed  it  reverently  before  him  and 
read  once  again  the  words  he  knew  by 
heart :  — 

160 


A   Bachelor's  Supper 

"  SILLY  BOY  : 

u  Do  you  take  seriously  everything  a 
woman  says?  L. 

"P.  S.  —  To-morrow  afternoon  about 
half-past  three  a  foolish  girl  on  a  bobtail 
horse  will  be  in  that  lane  between  the 
bridge  and  Holbrookes  farm" 

At  this  point  something  fell  upon  the 
page  which  Mr.  Valentine  blotted  up 
carefully  with  his  handkerchief.  Lay 
ing  the  daguerrotype  upon  the  letter, 
he  gazed  silently  upon  the  features  of  a 
raven  beauty  with  gentle  eyes  and  a 
most  inviting  mouth.  As  he  laid  the 
portrait  and  the  letter  back  into  the 
drawer,  Clem  appeared  in  the  doorway. 

"  Sence  dey  's  ter  be  some  style  at  dis 
yer  suppah,  p'raps  it  '11  be  bettah  ter  have 
two  to  wait  on  de  table.  But  as  dey 
ain't  no  food  and  only  one  bottle  of  wine, 
I  s'pose  I  '11  be  enough." 

u  You  '11  be   one  too   many,  Clem. 
I  want  you  to  go  to  bed  after  the  table 
is  set,  and  not  be  around  at  all." 
ii  161 


A   Bachelor's  Supper 

"  Not  be  around  at  all  !  " 

"  No,  Clem." 

41  Den  whose  ter  let  de  guests  in  ?  " 

u  Nobody  —  that  is,  I  can  do  it  my 
self  if  necessary." 

As  his  servant  departed,  he  muttered, 
u  What  an  old  fool  he  thinks  I  am." 

And  the  guess  was  not  wide  of  the 
mark.  Old  Clem  was  seriously  alarmed  ; 
for  although  his  master  had  never  yet 
shown  any  of  the  usual  symptoms  of 
mental  derangement,  he  knew  those 
things  often  came  suddenly  and  without 
warning.  But  he  set  the  table  with 
unusual  care. 

At  precisely  half-past  eleven  he 
knocked  at  the  door  of  Mr.  Valentine's 
chamber,  and,  receiving  no  answer  after 
a  second  knock,  he  slowly  opened  the 
door.  The  old  gentleman  was  lying 
upon  the  bed,  apparently  asleep.  Clem 
noticed  that  he  had  donned  a  fresh  shirt 
and  a  white  cravat.  As  he  touched  his 
arm,  Mr.  Valentine  slowly  opened  his 
eyes  and  at  first  did  not  seem  to  realize 
162 


A  Bachelor's  Supper 

just  where  he  was.  He  arose  from  the 
bed,  however,  and  there  was  a  little 
flush  in  each  cheek  that  made  his 
pleasant  old  face  look  younger  than 
ever. 

"  Thank  you,  Clem,"  he  said.  "  I 
must  have  been  asleep.  I  '11  be  right 
out." 

Five  minutes  later  Mr.  Valentine  en 
tered  the  dining-room  in  full  evening 
dress,  with  a  rose  in  his  coat,  a  smile 
upon  his  face,  and  the  same  rejuvenating 
flush  upon  his  cheeks.  Clem  was  sur 
prised  to  see  how  young  and  fresh  the 
old  gentleman  looked.  He  also  realized 
that  while  his  color  was  most  becoming, 
and  came  and  went  as  with  a  girl  of 
sixteen,  it  might  be  an  unfavorable 
symptom  with  a  man  of  seventy.  But 
Mr.  Valentine  was  in  excellent  spirits, 
although  quiet  and,  at  intervals,  even" 
absent  in  his  manner.  His  eye  was 
bright  and  his  step  elastic  as  he  made 
the  tour  of  the  table,  giving  here  and 
there  a  finishing  touch.  He  compli- 
163 


A   Bachelor's  Supper 

merited  Clem  on  his  promptness  and 
good  taste. 

"  And  now,  Clem,"  he  said,  glancing 
at  the  tall  clock  in  the  corner  of  the 
room,  u  you  may  go  to  bed.  And 
remember  you  are  not  to  return  to 
night,  or  even  look  into  the  room." 

Seeing  upon  the  black  face  a  re 
proach  for  being  excluded  from  such 
an  unusual  festivity,  he  laid  a  hand 
affectionately  upon  his  shoulder  and 
added,— 

"  I  may  tell  you  about  it  sometime, 
but  this  little  party  to-night  is  to  be  so 
terribly  select  that  not  even  the  supper 
itself  can  be  admitted.  So  go  to  bed, 
old  fellow,  and  I  wish  you  in  advance 
a  Merry  Christmas." 

"  Same  to  you,  sah  ;  same  to  you, 
and  a  good  many  of  'em  !  Good-night, 
'sah." 

Alone  in   the    room,  Mr.   Valentine 

filled   the  eight    little  glasses  with   the 

old     Madeira.      He    then    took     seven 

cards  from  his  pocket.      On  every  card 

164 


A  Bachelor's  Supper 

was  a  lady's  name,  which  he  touched 
reverently  with  his  lips  before  laying 
beside  its  proper  plate.  Then,  with  a 
thoughtfulness  and  care  that  indicated 
a  familiarity  with  the  preferences  of  his 
guests,  he  transposed  all  the  bunches  of 
flowers. 

The  last  one  to  be  laid  in  position 
was  composed  entirely  of  old-fashioned 
pinks.  As  he  placed  it  on  the  table,  a 
sudden  idea  seemed  to  strike  him,  and, 
taking  one  of  these  pinks-  from  the 
bunch,  he  went  back  into  his  chamber 
to  the  chimney-piece  and  stood  before 
the  miniature  of  a  young  girl  about 
eighteen,  in  a  white  dress  of  a  fashion 
long  gone  by.  The  brown  hair,  parted 
in  the  middle  and  drawn  down  in 
straight  lines  across  the  forehead,  cov 
ered  the  ears  with  a  prim  severity  in 
striking  contrast  to  the  plump  lips  and 
laughing  eyes.  At  her  breast  was  a 
little  bunch  of  the  same  old-fashioned 
pinks.  For  Mr.  Valentine  there  were 
evidently  sad  associations  with  this 
165 


A   Bachelor's  Supper 

cheerful  face,  as  his  eyes  were  moist 
when  he  inserted  his  one  little  flower 
in  the  carving  of  the  frame. 

Returning  to  the  dining-room,  he 
stopped  a  moment  upon  the  threshold, 
looking  with  boyish  pleasure  upon  the 
dainty  supper-table  and  the  blazing  fire. 
He  then  stepped  to  his  own  armchair 
at  the  head  of  the  table,  bowed  his  head 
in  salutation  to  the  absent  guests,  and 
took  his  seat. 

The  red  spots  were  again  in  his 
cheeks.  The  flush  of  youth  came  and 
went  more  fitfully  than  before  as  he 
looked  along  the  vacant  places,  and 
allowed  his  fancy  to  fill  the  seats  with 
those  who,  at  different  epochs,  had  been 
so  very  dear  to  him.  Verily,  he  seemed 
again  in  the  presence  of  the  seven 
beings  whose  hearts  had  once  been 
his! 

And  they  were  not  idle  flirtations  he 
looked  back  upon,  but  serious  passions ; 
for  Mr.  Valentine,  although  impression 
able,  was  a  steadfast  man,  and  these 


A   Bachelor's  Supper 

seven  loves  of  his  life  had  been  honest 
and  loyal.  Moreover,  there  had  always 
been  a  reasonable  space  between. 
When  his  heart  went  out  to  a  new 
love,  it  still  held  firmly  to  the  earlier 
idols  and  never  weakened  in  its 
devotion. 

These  memories  gave  him  an  ex 
quisite  pleasure,  and  for  twenty  years 
he  had  taken  every  care  to  keep  them 
alive  and  fresh.  They  were  the  sanc 
tities  of  a  heart  that  could  never  grow 
old.  And  now,  as  he  sat  with  the 
empty  chairs  about  him,  he  was  drifting 
back  into  the  years  of  his  victorious 
youth.  He  seemed  again  in  the  pres 
ence  of  those  whose  memories  were 
more  precious  than  life.  There,  on 
the  right,  with  the  quaint  little  curls 
each  side  of  her  face,  is  the  one  for 
whom  he  fought  that  laughable  duel 
and  got  a  bullet  in  his  ribs;  then 
lost  her  through  a  hot  little  quarrel 
for  which  he  has  cursed  himself  off 
and  on  for  more  than  half  a  cen- 
167 


A   Bachelor's  Supper 

tury.  But  the  kind  eyes  smile  pleas 
antly  at  him  now. 

And  beside  her  is  the  dear,  familiar 
maiden  of  the  bobtail  horse,  she  who 
wrote  the  letters  in  his  secretary  drawer. 
The  blood  flows  quicker  through  his 
veins  as  she,  too,  sends  a  loving  greet 
ing.  He  laughs  to  see  the  same  old 
toss  of  the  head  he  knows  so  well. 

But  that  foreign,  tempestuous  beauty, 
with  the  pearls  in  her  black  hair,  and 
the  heavy  eyelids  —  why  is  she  here 
among  these  Americans  ?  Has  she 
also  a  corner  in  the  old  beau's  heart  ? 
Of  that  there  is  little  doubt.  As  her 
gaze  meets  his,  he  leans  forward  with 
an  eager  smile  and  his  eyes  drop  to  a 
necklace,  where  he  sees,  with  a  thrill  of 
pleasure,  a  jewelled  locket  upon  her 
throat.  He  knows  well  what  lies 
within  ! 

And   la  diva!      She,    too,    is    here! 

What  a  different  life  her  face   recalls  ! 

A  life  of  music,  flowers,  applause.      It 

recalls  stolen  interviews  in  those  deli- 

168 


A   Bachelor's  Supper 

cious  days  before  she  was  famous,  and 
before  she  was  given  to  that  short  little 
brute  with  the  very  long  title.  It  also 
recalls  that  night  he  sat  waiting  for  her 
behind  one  of  the  flies  in  the  opera  at 


Genoa  when  she,  coming  off  the  stage 
in  her  regal  robes,  took  his  head  in 
both  her  hands,  and  kissed  him  ! 

All  the  joy  and  tragedy  of  fifty  years 
seems  crowded  in  a  single  moment. 
He  leans  back  in  his  chair,  his  hand- 


A   Bachelor's  Supper 

some  face  radiant  with  unspeakable 
happiness.  But  the  strain  is  almost 
too  great,  and  he  raises  a  trembling 
hand  to  his  heart  as  if  to  keep  it  in  its 
place. 

He  suddenly  leans  forward,  however, 
with  a  bright  welcome  in  his  eyes  as 
another  place  is  occupied.  This  time 
by  a  little  figure  —  a  girl  of  ten  or 
thereabouts  —  who  lifts  the  flowers  from 
beside  her  plate  and  smiles  timidlv  over 
them.  His  thoughts  fly  back  into  a 
far-away  past  when  he  and  this  maid 
were  all  the  world  to  one  another.  It 
was  his  first  passion,  his  boyish  love. 
Does  she  remember  the  day  he  dragged 
her  up  the  hill  upon  his  sled,  and  when 
at  the  very  top  he  slipped  and,  falling 
in  her  lap,  they  sped  like  lightning  to 
the  bottom  and  were  shot  head  fore 
most  into  a  snow-bank  ?  Oh,  yes ; 
she  remembers  it  well,  and  nods  her 
head  !  There  is  a  tear  upon  his  check 
as  he  thinks  of  the  checkerberries  he 
laid  upon  a  young  girl's  grave  ;  and  the 
172 


A   Bachelor's  Supper 

cornelian    ring    he    wore    until    it    fell 
apart. 

Another  radiant  creature  fills  an 
empty  chair  and  gayly  returns  his  wel 
come.  She  tosses  him  a  rose,  this  girl 
of  the  boat  and  the  island,  of  the  moon 
and  the  music,  and  shakes  her  fan  at 
him,  the  very  fan  that  is  locked  up  in 
his  bureau  drawer  ! 

They  are  all  here  now  except  one  — 
and  —  yes  —  even  she  is  here  !  —  the 
original  of  the  miniature,  the  girl  with 
the  old-fashioned  pinks.  The  same 
smile,  the  same  eyes,  and  they  tell  him 
to-night,  as  they  have  done  many  times 
before,  of  a  heart  that  knows  no  waver 
ing.  He  draws  a  hand  across  his  brow 
as  if  the  pain  and  pleasure  were  too 
keen  for  nerves  and  tissues  of  seventy 
years. 

Slowly  rising  to  his  feet,  he  lifts  the 
little  glass  of  Madeira  from  the  table, 
then  looks  around  with  a  loving  glance 
that  meets,  from  every  face,  a  loving 
answer.  He  tries  to  speak,  and  his 
173 


A   Bachelor's  Supper 

tremulous  lips  refuse  to  utter  the  toast, 
—  the  message  from  an  overcrowded 
heart. 

But  they  all  understand.  They  re 
spond  with  a  graceful  gesture,  each 
with  her  own  little  glass,  as  he  puts  the 
wine  to  his  lips. 

At  that  moment  the  old  timepiece 
in  the  corner,  with  its  chimes  and  bells, 
begins  to  sound  the  hour  of  twelve ; 
and,  as  he  smiles  upon  the  radiant 
forms  about  him,  the  wine,  with  a  tu 
multuous  beating,  throbs  hotly  through 
his  veins  and  surges  to  his  brain,  keep 
ing  time  with  the  ringing  clock.  Then 
the  sound  grows  fainter  and  fainter, 
as  if  dying  away,  and  seems,  with 
a  drowsy  rhythm,  to  lift  him  gently 
with  it. 

When  Clem  entered  the  next  morn 
ing,  two  narrow  bars  of  sunshine  had 
crept  between  the  curtains,  faintly  light 
ing  the  silent  room.  The  candles  had 
burnt  out  in  their  sockets,  and  his 


A   Bachelor's  Supper 

master,  his  chin   upon   his  breast,  had 
sunk  back  into  his  final  sleep. 

The  little  wine-glasses  were  partially 
emptied,  and  the  bunches  of  flowers  were 
gone. 


13  177 


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